


Here There Be Dragons

by soulfulsin



Series: Dragons [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, F/F, F/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-03-19 21:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: Sequel to Welcome to Dragonburg (which I'm aware I need to fix a few errors in--I just reread it last night). I'm not sure how far I'll go with this, especially considering that the original wasn't all that popular.Webby, Dewey, and Lena learn how to work within their new threeway Bond--but even romance isn't enough to completely compensate for Lena's issues from Magica's abuse.Meanwhile, Magica has to Bond with Gladstone to prevent her execution; will she try to find a way to weasel out of it?Scrooge and Goldie go treasure hunting.





	1. Chapter 1

They’d ducked out of their wedding early, but that availed them nothing. Besides the fact that their gowns would require a long time to extract themselves from, Webby, Lena, and Dewey ran into the last person they wanted to see. Lena’s heart clenched painfully in her chest, and she stopped so abruptly that the other two walked into her. Gladstone was a few feet away, out of earshot, and Magica de Spell, in her humanoid form now, leered at Lena. Webby and Dewey took Lena’s hands and squeezed.

“What do you want?” Webby spat. Calente had healed the superficial scars on her face, and the ones in her mouth, much more severe, were healing at an accelerated rate, but she had not yet fully recovered. Calente and her grandmother had admonished Webby about speaking, but this was her wedding reception. She couldn’t keep silent, and besides, Lena knew from experience that shutting Webby up was difficult as it was. Telling her not to talk was like telling the tide not to flow.

“Why, can’t an aunt see her niece on her wedding day?” Magica crooned. 

“You’re not supposed to be within five hundred feet of McDragon manor, much less inside,” Lena spat. She was shaking, memories of Magica mentally abusing her filling her mind. Her breathing grew shallow, and she realized that with them in the same room, Magica could reach out and give her another seizure. Terror consumed her.

“I won’t let her hurt you, not again,” Webby swore in a low voice, which Magica nonetheless heard.

Magica chuckled. “Have you told your darling Webster how I tortured you? How exquisite it was? I could feel every moment of your agony.”

She advanced, and Lena retreated, throat tight. She didn’t think she could speak, and it was taking everything within her not to flee. This was her wedding day, damn it. She wasn’t going to run away from her own wedding. Magica could not take that away from her. She was finally going to Bond with Webby. She would never lose her. She was happy, damn it. 

“How does it feel living without a tail?” Webby countered. “And without depth perception?”

“Are you calling me shallow, Webster?” Magica rejoined, smirking. “I could say the same for you. Lena’s a terrible choice for a Bonded. She’s weak, pathetic, really. She never follows through on her promises, and she’s not even suitable as a puppet. 

“Dewford Dragon is a far better match, although that’s not saying much. Lena de Spell should have been killed when she hatched.”

As Magica spoke, her eye glittered with malice. Even though Lena had heard variations of this her whole life, having it spoken in front of Webby and Dewey horrified her. Magica didn’t have to be in her head to feel her emotions, and she was clearly feeding off them again. Lena was shaking badly, and, to her surprise, her Bondeds were glaring at Magica. They didn’t agree. Lena didn’t see how that was possible. 

“Lena is a better dragon than you,” Dewey snapped. “You’re disgusting. You hurt her for years just because you needed a target.”

“She suffered for years because of you,” Webby agreed. “You selfish, conceited, arrogant bitch. Lena is a wonderful, sweet, caring, devoted dragon.”

“You’re deluded,” Magica said dismissively. “I should have killed her when I had the chance. Then again…”

She grinned cruelly. “I can still try.”

She reached out with her mental powers, and Lena flinched, anticipating agony. Gladstone whirled around then, and Lena’s heart, which was pounding fit to break her chest, slowed slightly. She was whimpering, knowing what Magica’s “attempts” felt like. Her knees were weak, and Dewey and Webby braced her. From enjoying herself and being over the moon, she wanted to hide in a corner. She wished she’d never agreed to this ceremony. They weren’t officially Bonded yet. They required the consummation and then the Flight, which would magically seal the deal. There was still time for Dewey and Webby to reconsider being shackled to Lena.

“Magica!” Gladstone snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Magica lied smoothly.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he retorted. “I brought you here to prove to my uncle that you can behave yourself, and you look like you’re about to give your niece a heart attack. I can’t believe you. You’re terrorizing her on her wedding day.”

Magica made an abortive attempt to defend herself, and it died in her throat. Gladstone stepped closer.

“I’m sorry,” Gladstone said. “This is my fault. Magica’s been prickly since she lost her eye and tail, not to mention her dragon form.”

“Prickly?” Lena gasped out. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because I was thinking more like ‘homicidal.’”

“Were you trying to kill her?” Gladstone snapped.

“I couldn’t have,” Magica said, waving a hand dismissively. “She’s wearing that wretched necklace, for one thing. For another, I’m sure Wendy here would’ve gone for my throat.”

“I would kill you before you harm another hair on Lena’s head,” Webby said, shaking too, although in a fury and not in fear. “You have no place here. Get. Out.”

“This isn’t working. Let’s go, Magica,” Gladstone said and then yanked her along, tugging her back toward the entrance. “So sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dewey said. “How does ‘sorry’ even come close to making this right? Lena, are you okay?”

Her chest was constricted, and she could feel a panic attack coming on. Magica wasn’t gone. Magica could still hurt her if she chose if Lena ever removed the necklace. She wasn’t safe. Lena tore her hands out of their grips and bolted, her tail lashing insanely. 

“Lena!” Dewey and Webby cried, and wings erupted out of her back. That was new. She’d never been able to alter her appearance before now. Then again, the wedding ceremony had included magic too, some of it arcane. Perhaps it’d allow her to shift fully into a dragon.

Taking a running start, she flew up toward an open window near the roof and darted outside. Her flight was ungainly, especially considering that she didn’t know what she was doing. Desperation lent strength to her movements; it wasn’t too late for them to back out. They weren’t fully linked. Webby wasn’t thinking straight, and Dewey was following her lead. If she disappeared, they’d rethink this. They’d realize Magica was right, that she should’ve been killed after she’d hatched. Lena pictured herself as a hatchling and then Magica hefting a large rock and crushing her. Her chest, already tight, constricted further, and her vision grew spotty. She was in full-blown panic mode now.

They’d be better off without her. Better off...without her...Lena flew into a tree, scrambled through the branches, and hugging her knees, rocked back and forth. Her dress caught in the branches too, and she huffed. This had been a mistake. Everything she did was a mistake. She was a royal screw-up and stupid to boot for ever thinking this could work. How had she survived this long being this stupid?

“Lena!” Webby was calling for her, and it felt like a knife thrust to the heart. Lena was determined not to answer. They’d give up soon enough; then again, maybe not. Webby had made it clear that she was devoted to Lena and Dewey, but then again, who had two Bondeds? Webby would realize the truth soon enough. Lena wasn’t worth Bonding to. She’d let her family down and let her father die. Magica’s words echoed on loop in her head. Magica didn’t need magic to destroy her. 

Tears fell fast and furious down her cheeks. She kept her jaw clenched tight to prevent the sobs from being audible. She shuddered, hugging herself. What she hadn’t reckoned on, however, was that even without consummating the Bond, her Bondeds could still find her. Their sense of her (and hers of them) had progressed after the ceremony. 

“Lena!” Webby called again, and this time, her voice was disturbingly close. Then, to Lena’s horror, Webby was ascending the tree, her dress be damned. It got snagged in random branches, and once, her dress lifted and gave Lena a rather unique view. She couldn’t appreciate it; she was too shocked that not only had Webby found her, but she’d done so within minutes of Lena’s escape.

Webby landed on the tree limb that Lena was perched on, and Lena turned her head. She couldn’t take the sympathy and love in Webby’s eyes. Behind her, Dewey scrambled atop the tree limb too. Though it shook, it held their weight. 

“You shouldn’t cry,” Dewey said. “It’s your wedding day. To us.”

Lena wanted to keep her gaze averted, but Webby spun around and sat on Lena’s right side with Dewey on her left. Webby lifted Lena’s head and then kissed her gently on the lips. She was thumbing away Lena’s tears, though they kept falling. Seeing that her soft kiss wasn’t doing the trick, Webby kissed her harder, with more passion, and Lena pushed her away. It killed something in her to do it, and, to make matters worse, she saw the pain mirrored in Webby’s face. No, she’d been trying to prevent this. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Webby distress.

She spun her head around to avoid Webby’s gaze only for Dewey to kiss her. She’d never kissed him before, the ceremony aside. It was almost akin to kissing Webby, which shocked her enough to stop crying. Dewey cradled her head in his hands, and when they broke apart, she was confused. The link between all three of them thrummed deep within Lena, and she was trembling, uncertain where to put her gaze. Nowhere seemed safe.

“Did you forget we’re linked together now?” Dewey murmured.

“Lena, we love you,” Webby said. She put a hand on Lena’s knee, and the limb beneath them creaked ominously. Maybe it wasn’t as stable as she’d thought it was. Her heart thudded, and Dewey played with her hair floof, the same lock that Webby loved to toy with. 

“Why?” Lena burst out. She hadn’t meant to ask it, but once it was out, she couldn’t take it back.

“You heard what we said,” Dewey said. “You’re a good person, Lena.”

“No, I’m not,” Lena retorted, frustrated that they weren’t getting it. “I tricked you guys for years. I snuck around behind your backs to find that elixir, and I was Magica’s spy for four years. I’m not a good person.”

“Okay, one, you weren’t doing that of your own free will,” Dewey said. “Two, Magica’s been tormenting you for years. Even before you met us. And you were living in a hole in the wall. You’re a good person.”

“You heard everything Magica said,” Lena pressed. 

“And you heard everything we said,” Webby retorted. “Are you going to take her word over ours? We love you. She hates you. She’s going to say whatever she can to hurt you.”

Needless to say, it had worked. Lena felt ashamed of herself that Magica had won again. Then again, Lena’s self-loathing was such that she remained convinced that Webby and Dewey could do far better than her. She hung her head, and Webby lifted it and kissed her again. This time, however, Lena kissed her back and reciprocated when Webby deepened the kiss. 

Beneath them, the tree creaked again. It might be time to move.

“Are we really going to spend the rest of our wedding reception up a tree?” Dewey groused, and Lena and Webby broke apart. Lena caressed Webby’s cheek.

“I love you too,” Lena said softly. “And no, we’re not. We’re going down.”

She blinked. “Webby, you shouldn’t have been talking so much with your mouth as it is.”

“I’m fine,” Webby replied.

Lena groaned. She wasn’t going to argue that, not right now. Webby would bring up Lena’s self-loathing thanks to Magica, and that was a can of worms she did not want to be opened. With misgivings, she edged her way back down the tree, and her wings retracted, allowing her to do so without getting further ensnared.

With cuts and bruises, they returned to the reception. Scrooge was waiting outside and scowling. Lena tensed, anticipating trouble, and Webby grabbed her hand.

“I heard about Magica. Donnae worry about her and Gladstone--they’ve been dealt with,” Scrooge said without preamble. “Lena, lass, are ye all right?”

“Never better,” Lena said, and Scrooge gave her a shrewd look that warned her he wasn’t buying it. She grimaced.

“We’ll be all right soon enough,” Webby reassured him. “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Any time, lass,” he said and reached out to hug her. Lena let him do so and hugged him back; her hug was surprisingly fierce. Other people cared about her; she had to remember that. Besides this, she was a part of their family now. That would take some getting used to.

“If ye need a few minutes, take all the time ye need,” Scrooge said. He returned to the reception, and Lena shivered, scrubbing at her cheeks to conceal the last few tears. Dewey and Webby hugged her, and she hugged them back. 

Dewey kissed her on the lips and, still surprised at the way he and Webby casually offered affection, Lena kissed him back. She wasn’t sure how she had a connection with him, too, though he was pretty similar on Webby in certain ways. He was adventurous, like her, determined, and outgoing. And, though she couldn’t fathom why, like Webby, he loved her. That would probably remain a mystery to her for a long time.

“No more crying,” Webby said, and Lena broke off the kiss to look at her. In her wedding gown, all white, Webby was gorgeous. Lena couldn’t even begin to list the ways she enchanted her and also, some of the more adult things she wanted to do to her. 

“When you’re ready to go back, we are too,” Dewey said, unperturbed that Lena had broken off the kiss. 

“Thanks,” Lena said. “I’m sorry...about earlier. Forget it ever happened.”

“No,” Webby said and, alarmed, Lena gaped at her. “I mean, no, I won’t forget because Magica doesn’t deserve to get away with it. But things’ll get better. You’ll see. Love conquers all.”

Lena laughed, a short, abrupt sound. “You’re so naive, Webby.”

Webby caressed her cheek. “Love brought you to me and all of us together.”

“No, Aunt Magica brought me to you,” Lena pointed out.

“But love kept you here,” Webby corrected, persistent.

“All right, fine. I’ll let you have that point. For now,” Lena said.

“Argh, Huey’s screwing up the playlist,” Dewey groused, and a small smile spread across Lena’s face.

“Let’s go,” Lena decided. “Before Dewey has a hissy fit.”

“I’m not gonna have a hissy fit,” he huffed.

“Sure,” Lena said and exchanged a smile with Webby. “Sure you’re not.”

* * *

“If she’s going to be a nuisance, then I cannae allow you to bring her anywhere near McDragon Manor,” Scrooge snapped. He was still talking to Gladstone about this, seeing as the younger man would not let it go. It was getting repetitive and irritating.

“It won’t happen again,” Gladstone promised. “It was just a little hiccup.”

“‘Just a little hiccup’?” the Scottish dragon repeated, gritting his teeth. “Huey playing the wrong song is a ‘hiccup.’ Magica de Spell nearly causing one of the brides to flee her own wedding reception is not a ‘little hiccup.’ She was terrorizing Lena.”

“As I said, I have it all under control,” he replied.

“Ye have nothing under control,” he countered. “Do ye even know where she went?”

Gladstone paused, and Scrooge growled. He’d sequestered Gladstone and Magica off for the time being, but if Gladstone didn’t know where his Intended was, she could have easily gone off to torment Lena again. The girl had gone through enough in her life without her aunt heckling her at every opportunity. For heaven’s sake, she was still recovering from her father’s death.

“Ye have no blasted idea where she went?” he snarled. “She could be down in the dungeons right now!”

“Yes, well, let me go check on that. I promise we’ll be out of your hair soon, Unk,” Gladstone said smoothly. Scrooge wanted to hit him. It was Magica’s fault that Webby’s mouth was still healing, that Beakley had nearly lost her voice, and Lena was the way she was. And Gladstone was willing to wave it all aside. Either he really cared about Magica or, what Scrooge suspected, he was letting his libido do the talking.

Not that he was really one to criticize. Goldie was around here somewhere, and they’d already had a tumble in one of the spare bedrooms. Thinking of her was counterproductive, but damn if he didn’t need the stress relief. Plus, he did enjoy her company, even if she loved gold more than him. He gritted his teeth again, this time for a different reason. All right, he’d have to find her. She was stuck in his head. Hopefully, Lena would be all right with Dewey and Webby. 

It took him a while, but he found Goldie lingering near the dungeons she couldn’t access. Her dress was still rumpled, and he smiled, coming up behind her. She was too entranced staring at the giant gold nugget he had behind a display case and doubtlessly plotting of how to steal it to notice him.

“You’re not exactly quiet with that cane, old man,” she said without turning around. 

Or maybe not. 

“Ye’re not plotting how to rob me in the middle of a wedding reception, now, are ye?” he said.

“Of course not,” she said and spun about to smirk at him. “I’d have the common sense to wait until everyone was asleep first.”

“Ye cannae even carry that thing.”

“Not in this form. But as a dragon--”

“Like a dragon, ye wouldnae fit in the dungeon. I was younger and smaller when I brought that nugget down.”

Goldie scanned him up and down, and heat rushed to his cheeks. It brought to mind what he’d been thinking earlier, and her sly smile suggested she’d had the same thought. She moved forward so that her skirts brushed against his pants and then, seeing as no one else was around, put her hand in a most unlady-like place. She caressed it for good measure, and he pinned her against the wall to kiss her.

She kissed him back enthusiastically, wrapping her legs about his and causing blood to rush elsewhere. His mind was racing, trying to think of where they could go. There was a spartan bedroom down here that might suffice, and, still kissing her, he pushed her back toward it. She ground against him, and he groaned, wanting nothing more than to take her. Her grin against his lips was spurring him on.

She seemed to know where he wanted to go and, breaking off the kiss, led him there as though this was her manor, not his. Normally, the audacity might’ve deterred him. Right now, nothing did. He pounced on her as soon as she sat on the bed and kissed her again. Her hand slipped beneath his pants.

All right, yes, the others could solve their own problems. He was far too busy right now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late. I'm trying to finish Les Miserables (the unabridged novel--oy, is that long).

Magica was enraged. She hadn’t done anything to that brat. She hadn’t touched a precious hair on her head, and yet, Scrooge had berated her and Gladstone. Gladstone hadn’t had anything to do with it. How dare he take his anger out on him. And how dare he be upset when all she’d done was upset Lena. Lena deserved whatever she got. So what if she’d probably ruined her wedding day? Lena should never have hatched.  
  
She kept thinking of Poe, lying limp in her feet. She hadn’t even had a chance to bury him. Everything had happened so quickly that she’d had no opportunity to do anything. At least she’d fled Gladstone for the time being. She didn’t know what had become of her betrothed, and she folded her arms across her chest. Gladstone would want her to stop attacking her niece and baiting her and Webby. (And yes, she knew Webby’s name. She only used the wrong name to taunt Lena).  
  
She’d come down to the dungeons too, though she’d stepped back when she saw Goldie and Scrooge getting frisky. One glimpse of Goldie copping a feel, and Magica was out of there. Magica sighed, waving a hand in front of her face to remind herself again that Webby had taken one of her eyes out. If she turned her head a certain way, everything went black. She wore an eye patch to spare herself the sight of an empty eye socket.  
  
Although the loss of her tail meant little when she was in humanoid form, it’d be problematic if she were ever permitted to shift back into dragon form. She’d have to too, to Fly with Gladstone. Tails acted as rudders, and she didn’t know how well she’d be able to ascend or descend, let alone maneuver, sans a tail. She sighed. Perhaps she ought to count herself lucky Webby hadn’t gone for her throat.  
  
The girl had promise. Magica toyed briefly with turning her. Then again, Webby would never work willingly with Magica, not after what Magica had subjected her precious, dumb little Lena to. Besides, Webby was too much a force of good. It was grating. Magica hated do-gooders.  
  
Gladstone was closer to neutral than evil. That meant he carried no weight on the astral plane, and, as a result, she couldn’t feel his approach. Lightsiders like Webby, by contrast, always brought with them an obnoxious bright gleam and happiness. Even when they were worried, as Webby was probably now, she couldn’t extinguish her light. Magica hissed in remembrance.  
  
Lena was like that too, though she couldn’t see it, and Magica had no intention of informing her. Lena was closer to the light than Gladstone. All Lena saw were the injuries Magica had done her, her intense self-loathing, and everything she’d done to further Magica’s agenda. Maybe Lena’s self-loathing would prompt her to do something interesting, like an attempt to break off the marriage before it was consummated.  
  
Ugh. She needed to find another focal point. She had what she’d wanted, albeit not in the way she’d wanted. She was humanoid again and would be granted the ability to shapeshift once Scrooge had deemed her fit enough for a Bond flight. Bonds needed to be consummated once the traditional way and then the second time in the air. Magica hadn’t been looking forward to the consummation if only because it’d lay her soul bare before Gladstone. Then, perhaps, Gladstone might realize that Lena’s self-loathing came from Magica’s own.  
  
Magica was dithering on the stairwell away from the party. She could hear people carrying on and then sensed someone on the steps above her. It was a lightsider, and the brightness in their aura seared Magica like being thrust into the spotlight after standing in darkness.  
  
When she turned, she spied Beakley staring at her. Magica gritted her teeth to conceal a hiss. Moving too quickly had upset her sense of balance, and she threw out a hand to keep herself from falling. Beakley, she noted, had not come to assist her. The hatred gleaming in the woman’s eyes made Magica smirk. Oh, was she upset about what she’d done to Webby? It was a shame she hadn’t killed her. What a commotion that would have made.  
  
“What’s the matter, Beakley?” Magica sneered. “Cat got your tongue?”  
  
“Mr. McDragon’s wards should have kept you out of the manor,” Mrs. Beakley retorted, advancing. Magica would’ve met her, but the stairway’s darkness, combined with her nascent loss of depth perception, stacked matters against her. She might fall down the stairs, and she knew with certainty that Mrs. Beakley would leave her there to rot.  
  
“Gladstone superseded them with my help.”  
  
“No wonder Mr. McDragon is so upset with him.” Mrs. Beakley folded her arms across her chest.  
  
“He didn’t look upset. He looked like he was off to rut with Goldie.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley sighed, casting her gaze upward as if imploring a higher power to deliver her from this.  
  
“This is supposed to be a party. Do you mean to tell me that you’re going to waste time chasing after your boss instead of enjoying yourself?”  
  
“I’m here to keep an eye on you. I don’t know what you intend to do down here, but I’m not going to allow it.”  
  
Magica scoffed. “This doesn’t concern you. Rumor has it there’s a lamp that grants the bearer three wishes. I’m here to claim it.”  
  
She was fishing for information. She’d overheard Goldie and Scrooge discussing the lamp earlier in the day, but not its location. As far as she could tell, neither had their hands on it, not yet, which meant it was ripe for the taking. Mrs. Beakley ought to be able to confirm for her whether that was true. If it was, then Magica ought to beat them to it. She already knew what she’d use her three wishes for.  
  
First and foremost, she’d bring Poe back. She’d yank him out of the past, give him the elixir as a restorative, and bring him back to life. Secondly, she’d imbue herself with a necromancer’s powers. She didn’t want Poe as a zombie, which was why this came second, not first. However...her lips curved into a cruel smile. She could kill Webby and Lena and bring them back to life, torture them, kill them, and repeat the process. One should never underestimate how very much she wanted them dead.  
  
As for the third wish, she was still making up her mind. She knew you couldn’t wish for more wishes and that it’d only waste a wish to do so.  
  
“Oh, are you?” Beakley returned. “Even if you were able to get through the McDragon Manor wards, you won’t be able to penetrate deeply enough into the vaults to access the lamp, even if such a thing existed.”  
  
“Are you saying it doesn’t?”  
  
“I’m saying that it’s none of your business either way.”  
  
Magica was grateful that the walls were thick down in the dungeon, or she might’ve been subjected to Scrooge and Goldie carrying on. Still, this cross-examination wasn’t much better. She glowered at the woman and then attempted to bully her way past her. Mrs. Beakley casually put out a hand, and, by trying to avoid it, Magica tripped over her own two feet and crashed to the floor. When she looked up, wiping her bloody nose, Mrs. Beakley was watching her.  
  
“You’re quite annoying.”  
  
“And you don’t belong here. Lena is my daughter-in-law,” Mrs. Beakley said and leaned down so that they were eye to eye. “And I know the hell you’ve put her through. I’d leave you there, but then you might get up. So I’ll stand here and watch you until you take the hint.”  
  
“Why is everyone so obsessed with that whelp?” Magica groused. She pushed against the floor and collapsed, unable to judge distance accurately. She cursed under her breath and glowered up at Mrs. Beakley.  
  
“If you’re going to stand here, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me up?” she spat.  
  
“I have no intention of helping you.”  
  
Magica growled, grabbing onto the railing. She slipped again and almost fell over. Throughout this comedy of errors, Beakley did nothing. She didn’t even blink. She watched her like Magica was a TV show she didn’t want to miss.  
  
“Then, get out.”  
  
“You have no power to compel me to do anything.”  
  
“You want your precious daughter in law to survive to her Flight, don’t you?”  
  
Magica knew all about the Bonding ceremony that happened before their transformation. After the service, the first part of which had been performed tonight, they shifted into their alternate forms and were sent to different parts of the country to find each other over vast distances. However, to complicate matters, they also lost their memories and had to locate each other based on their rational sense of them. This could only happen after the initial consummation in their humanoid forms. Once that was complete, they could proceed with the second ceremony and then the Flight.  
  
“You’re not getting anywhere near Lena, so don’t even think about it.”  
  
Magica smiled. “Ah, but the damage is already done. What happens to failed Bonds?”  
  
The truth was she didn’t know, and she was riling her up. However, now that she thought about, she might have a point. Lena’s self-esteem had taken a battering and was limping along. If she lost her memories, she wouldn’t necessarily miss the emotional and mental scars Magica had left her. She deserved them, after all, for letting her father die.  
  
“Although, as I’ve said, Dewford is a much better match for Webster--”  
  
“Webby,” Mrs. Beakley corrected automatically.  
  
“Wendy,” Magica said, deliberately using the wrong name again, “than that traitorous brat. But if a Bond isn’t fulfilled, well, nature might take care of her for me.”  
  
Without the Bond fully consummated, the person would pine away. With any luck, they’d become melancholy and refuse to eat and drink.  
  
“I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that,” Mrs. Beakley warned, and Magica snorted.  
  
“You can’t stop it from happening.”  
  
“I can stop you from Bonding with Gladstone.”  
  
The words stopped Magica cold.  
  
“You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“If Mr. McDragon knew that you were holding this over his head, he wouldn’t allow you to Bond. That Bond is the only thing saving your miserable life right now. Without that, well, nature might take care of you for me. To use your words.”  
  
“You wouldn’t just let me die!” she objected.  
  
“Watch me.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley walked away, and Magica squawked in indignation. She needed to Bond with Gladstone and quickly, but if she did that, she’d never get her revenge. Gladstone would prevent her from doing something foolish unless she could corrupt him…  
  
Now that was an exciting thought. Magica chewed on it for a while as she fought to stand again. A corrupt Gladstone with his supreme luck would be a bonus that would pay dividends. She rather liked the sound of that. Plus, with him corrupted, he’d be worthy to rule at her side when she eventually overthrew the oligarchs and assumed control of Dragonburg.  
  
This idea had merit, and she wasn’t going to let a little depth perception get in her way.  
  


* * *

  
  
For an older man, he liked to think he had impressive stamina. (He also didn’t want to think of himself as “old,” but that was another story). Goldie certainly wasn’t complaining. They’d finished, and she was cuddled up against him; sex was one of the few times where she let herself be vulnerable. Then again, it was one of the few times he let his guard down too, which might say something about their relationship that he didn’t care to examine too carefully.  
  
Sex with a Bonded was the first step toward consummating the Bond in its entirety, but Goldie had shown no inclination toward permanently fixing herself to Scrooge. He’d offered to marry her a few times, and she’d either turned him down calmly or, in a couple of cases, laughed in his face. The humiliation from that one still burned.  
  
His mind drifted to the artifact that they intended to find. The lamp was designed to grant its user three wishes. He still hadn’t made up his mind what those three wishes would be. He supposed he’d come up with something when the time came, assuming that Goldie didn’t steal the lamp out from under him. He wouldn’t put it past her.  
  
Again, he wondered what it said about him that he didn’t trust her not to backstab him, and yet he’d slept with her numerous times. He trusted her not to kill him in his sleep, although robbing him was another matter. That was why all of his valuables were kept under lock and key around here and then required his brand of magic to open. One could never be too cautious. Besides, Louie was treasure hungry also, although he’d never stoop to stealing from him.  
  
“Go to sleep already, Scroogie,” Goldie huffed. “I can feel you thinking from here.”  
  
Considering that one, she was right next to him and two, partially consummated Bonds did allow emotions to seep into each other’s minds, he wasn’t surprised. Sleeping with her in humanoid form was as far as she’d let him take it. The thought was singularly depressing, and he shoved it aside on general principle.  
  
“And what did ye plan to do about it?” he shot back.  
  
“I’m too tired for what we did before,” she said, and he felt her roll her eyes.  
  
“If ye were to steal the lamp from me, what would ye wish for?” he asked.  
  
“One, that I’d have a mass fortune,” Goldie said and ticked it off on her fingers. “That’d include a huge amount of gold and treasure, of course. Two, that I’d be immortal--and I don’t mean the draconic immortal where you still age, albeit slowly. Three, since I can’t wish for more wishes because that’d be cheating, I’d wish for an unlimited supply of magic so I could manufacture my own wishes. What about you?”  
  
“I haven’t made up my mind,” he confessed.  
  
“Well, that’s boring.”  
  
“I did want to speak with my sisters one last time…” he mused.  
  
“Can’t raise the dead,” she pointed out. “It’s one of the cardinal rules in magic. You know that. Genies of the lamp are not necromancers. It’s a dark-sided power. Hell, even Magica can’t do that.”  
  
“Can’t or doesn’t have the power to?” Scrooge asked darkly.  
  
“I should think that’s her business and not yours.”  
  
“If I cannae speak to the dead, then I donnae know what I’d wish for.”  
  
“You wouldn’t use the magic to force me to Bond with you?”  
  
“Ye cannae do that! Ye cannae compel someone to Bond with you. You and I both know that!”  
  
“Just saying.”  
  
The thing about Goldie was she was never ‘just saying’ anything. She was dropping a massive hint, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see what. Goldie had made her intentions clear centuries ago, that she didn’t want to marry him. Was she changing her tune now? Why? She loved gold more than she loved him. That was how it always was and how it would probably always be.  
  
“If I had all the gold in the world, though…” she said softly.  
  
“Ye’d want more,” he scoffed.  
  
“Maybe,” she said and then cupped his cheek. The way she said it, husky, made his lower body tingle. He didn’t want to push her, especially if what she was hinting at was only a vague possibility.  
  
“Or maybe I won’t,” she added, shifting away from him. She didn’t move too far, however, remaining within arm’s reach on the small cot. “My question to you is: if you don’t know what you’re going to wish for, why not let me do it instead? You might get more than what you bargained for.”  
  
“Or I might get exactly what I bargained for and get screwed in the process.”  
  
“You’re so pessimistic. The glass is half full, you know.”  
  
“No, it’s gone because ye stole it.”  
  
“Hey, someone’s got to be an opportunist.”  
  
Scrooge groaned. With a conversation like that, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Also, he was pretty sure he forgot something.  
  
“Curse me kilts, the wedding reception!” he exclaimed, and Goldie, beside him, snickered.  
  
“Oh, that little shindig? I’m sure it’s been over for hours,” Goldie said and then smirked. “That is... if you’re any good at lovemaking. But if you’re not as good as you think you are, then it’s only been twenty minutes.”  
  
Scrooge growled at Goldie, who flashed him an innocent smile that fooled no one. Getting his clothes back on and ignoring Goldie slapping him on the rump, he hastened out. She followed at a more leisurely pace.  
  
“What was the point in that?” he growled as they went toward the stairs. Then he paused. Magica was stuck, unable to stand due to her lack of depth perception.  
  
Magica spun when she heard their voices and then rolled down a couple of steps. She bore her teeth at them.  
  
“I assume neither of you is going to help me,” she grumped.  
  
Goldie just stepped over her like she wasn’t even there. She gave a casual kick, and Magica rolled down a couple more steps. “Oops. Sorry. My bad.”  
  
“Goldie…” Scrooge huffed and then, hating himself, stooped down to scoop up Magica. Magica clung to him, perhaps longer than necessary, probably because she couldn’t stand on her own two feet without assistance. Once she had, she used the railing to climb up the stairs and glowered at Goldie. She was muttering curses under her breath.  
  
“Ye’re welcome!” Scrooge snapped as he left the stairs and rejoined the party. “I cannae believe you distracted me for so long, Goldie.”  
  
“I can’t believe you fell for it,” Goldie said and then shrugged. “Leave it to you to be too horny to think straight.”  
  
“Like you weren’t?” he countered.  
  
“Oh, I can think perfectly fine with my brain when I’m horny. I’m not the one whose blood rushes down and starts thinking with my groin.”  
  
What had been the purpose of distracting him? Had she hoped that he’d fall asleep and then rob him? But she’d need his magical signature, for one thing, and another, if she had, why would she have woken him to sabotage herself? None of it made sense.  
  
He’d gnaw on it and worry about it later. For now, he was searching for Webby, Lena, and Dewey. Huey was fussing over seating arrangements again, and Louie was probably trying to grift people. Dewey, he located quickly at the DJ booth, which he wasn’t surprised at. But where were the girls?  
  
For that matter, where was Della? Scrooge knew that Della had had a hard time reconditioning herself to social events after being alone in the wilderness for all those years so that she might’ve been overwhelmed and retreated. That might explain Donald’s absence, too, if he was tending to his twin. But that still didn’t explain Lena and Webby.  
  
After searching through the party, he found Lena and Webby outside in a small garden that was off the foyer. He pushed the door open, and they looked up. Lena wiped her face, and he scowled.  
  
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked.  
  
He’d been distracted. Was that what Goldie had been after? But that didn’t make any sense. Goldie wouldn’t be in league with Magica. She’d even spoken up for Lena after Magica’s abuse. It had to be a coincidence.  
  
“Did you find her, at least?” Lena huffed.  
  
“She was on the steps the last time I saw her. The steps coming out of the staircase from the dungeon.”  
  
“I’ll deal with her,” Webby said resolutely.  
  
“No, ye won’t. Ye’re supposed to be restin’, Webby.”  
  
“I don’t need to do much to kick her ass,” Webby said, and he raised his eyebrows at her. Reluctantly, she looked aside.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “Don’t ye worry.”  
  
“Yeah, because adults are so great at keeping promises,” Lena muttered sarcastically. “And not doing whatever suits them instead.”  
  
Scrooge started to bristle and caught himself. He owed Lena an apology, though it was difficult for him to get those words out. Instead, he reached out to touch her shoulder, and she allowed it, though her teeth were gritted. He stopped, and she sighed, grabbing Webby’s hand and holding it.  
  
“I will,” he promised. “I’ll throw her in the dungeons again if I have to.”  
  
“Won’t Gladstone be upset about that?” Webby asked.  
  
“Who cares?” Lena muttered.  
  
“I’ll deal with him,” he promised. “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the night. Or what’s left of it.”  
  
Lena rolled her eyes and grumbled something too low for him to catch. Somehow, he doubted it was anything complimentary. Webby squeezed her hand, and he took his leave of them. How far could Magica have gone in the interim? She’d been struggling with the stairs the last time he’d seen her.  
  
Losing her again wasn’t an option. Magica had done enough damage tonight. He didn’t need to compound it.


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t believe they threw me out of the manor,” Magica fumed, folding her arms across her chest and peering through the gate at the illuminated house. Gladstone stood beside her, and she shivered from more than the cold. Even from out here, she could feel the searing goodness threatening to blow away her darkness. It was an entire convention of lightsiders, and it sickened her.  
  
“I can’t believe they didn’t do anything sooner,” Gladstone said. “You promised to be on your best behavior.”  
  
“It’s your fault you believed me,” she scoffed. He bent down, and she facepalmed. He’d somehow found twenty dollars lying on the street. Rolling her eye, she set off along the path leading to the road. Gladstone had driven them there, seeing as Magica couldn’t yet transform into her dragon form and take flight. Gladstone lived in a wealthy area of Dragonburg, just not that close to Mr. Moneybags over there. Magica could still taste the brightness in the back of her throat. How could anyone live like that? It was disgusting.  
  
He opened the door for her, and she slid into the comfortable BMW’s leather seats. Naturally, he hadn’t paid for the BMW. It had somehow ended up in his lap as a tax-deductible. Gladstone rarely paid for anything. Luck paved the way, which could be quite annoying if looked at in the wrong light. However, luck to her was like magic and magic she understood.  
  
“Magica, you need to chill with attacking the kid,” Gladstone said as he started the car. It was a red BMW, the latest model, and a peppy sports car besides. It never needed maintenance, and if it had, she was sure whatever it was would work itself out without assistance. Gladstone had a simple lifestyle, as any wrinkles or problems disappeared upon contact. She could soak in his luck and magic and feel incredibly sated.  
  
“I didn’t do anything to her. Why is everyone on my case about it?”  
  
She buckled her seatbelt and then folded her arms across her chest. Sitting aggravated her tailbone, and she remembered her amputated tail. Rage and hatred for Webby rushed through her.  
  
Gladstone didn’t move the car. He also didn’t wear a seatbelt because on the rare occasion he was in a car accident, he never got hurt. He cupped her cheek in his palm, and a different type of warmth coursed through her. Her heart skipped a beat.  
  
“I’m serious. You keep this up, and Unk isn’t going to be lenient toward you anymore. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I love you.”  
  
The last three words made her squirm. Gladstone was the only person in her life, save Poe, who had uttered them to her. Her parents hadn’t. She’d certainly never said them to Lena or had them said back to her; she’d strongly discouraged Lena as a young child from saying them through carefully induced headaches. Come to think of it; it might’ve been a minor miracle she hadn’t caused brain damage. Oh well.  
  
After a pause that she sensed took too long, she sighed and replied, “I love you too.”  
  
For all that she clung to the darkness, she had enough light in her to love him and no one else. They still hadn’t budged from the parking spot, and that was her fault.  
  
“So knock it off, okay? I want to Bond with you. Don’t you want to Bond with me?”  
  
She’d been careful about preventing any intimacy between them. Now, denying it would condemn her. She was wary of making herself that vulnerable. The last thing she wanted was for someone to exploit her when she was weak. Yet the way Gladstone looked at her told her he’d never do that. It was hard to fathom that someone might study her and not calculate her weaknesses.  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Do you?” he asked, and his tone had turned harsh. “Or are you only saying that because you don’t want my uncle to execute you?”  
  
Her hands shook, and she stared down at her lap. “I don’t want to die.”  
  
“Which is it? Do you fear death more than Bonding? Or do you genuinely want to Bond with me?” he pressed.  
  
Both of them would be an end, both permanent. However, if she didn’t take a stand soon, Gladstone might tire of her dithering and make up his mind to leave her. How long had he wanted to Bond with her? How long had she refused him? It seemed to her that it had been most of their adult lives. She’d felt connected to him ever since they were children, yet she had denied the spark between them for fear of where it might lead.  
  
A Bond unconsummated was a life unfulfilled. It also brought the possibility of offspring into the world. Magica had no delusions about her ability to raise children. Yet, the purpose of the Flight was to ensure the continuation of the dragon species. It always resulted in eggs. Always. Whether those eggs survived was another story, but she would have to lay them. She would have to be aware of the possibility that hatchlings would appear and consider her their mother. She shuddered, wary of that much attachment. Wary, too, knowing how she had treated Lena. She’d used Lena to further her agenda. Who was to say she wouldn’t use her children the same way?  
  
Yet she couldn’t vocalize any of this, not without giving the game away. Her throat was tight, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Finally, aware the silence had been prolonged too long, she willed herself to speak. The only way to do so was to stare through the windshield and not make eye contact with him, so that was what she did.  
  
“Bonding results in hatchlings, Gladstone. Can you honestly say you can imagine me as a mother? Don’t lie to me and tell me I’d be adequate or better, either. You saw what happened before. I don’t even have to say her name. You know.”  
  
“I can help you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Don’t you want to be more than an embittered dragon hellbent on revenge?”  
  
Magica laughed harshly. “That’s all I am, in case you haven’t noticed.”  
  
He took her hands. “I can help you be more.”  
  
Magica fought the urge to pull back. He was light, so good, and it didn’t sicken her as the others had at the McDragon Manor, but it terrified her. It terrified her that someone this good wanted anything to do with her. Moreover, it made no sense. Corrupting him, that made sense. That was something she could live with. But this? This unreasonable attachment? Light abhors the dark, and dark loathes the light. They were incompatible. Couldn’t he see that?  
  
“Why? Why would you want to?”  
  
“Because I see the beauty in you and the possibility that no one else sees. I see a hidden depth to you. You’re the only thing I’ve wanted to put any effort into in my entire life. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”  
  
She gasped and hated she had displayed vulnerability before him.  
  
“I don’t understand. Why?”  
  
“Because you’re worth it to me. Even if you don’t see it, especially if you don’t see it, so what do you say? Don’t you want to give this a chance? I’ll protect you. Besides, with my luck and your magic, what could stand in our way?”  
  
What indeed. Her lips twisted toward a faint smile. When he spoke like this, it encouraged her. It made her want to be, if not a better person, at least someone worthy of his admiration. Leaning forward and aware that her depth perception might cause her aim to be off, she leaned toward him. He corrected her before she headed for his neck and kissed her.  
  
She kissed him back. All right. She would Bond with him. And not just to save her miserable hide, although that was a factor. If he believed in her, then she would believe in him. Also, if he Bonded with her, then she could influence him and pull him away from the light side. Gladstone was too good to be a lightsider. He belonged in the dark with her, where it was comfortable and safe.  
  
She caressed his cheek and then grinned impishly when she pulled back. Her eye sparkled.  
  
“Wanna give the neighbors a show?” she said in a low, throaty voice. She had forgotten, however, that she was wearing a dress. Nonetheless, she reached for the zipper, and he helped her. Oh, so he did want to give the neighbors, what few there were considering the size of McDragon Manor, a show. Well, then, who was she to discourage him?  
  
His luck would probably be such that they wouldn’t be interrupted unless she wanted them to be. However, what she wanted was to have someone, like that odious Beakley, catch a glimpse of what was going on and be unable to prevent it. After all, the first consummation was the first step toward Bonding if she interrupted it, why, she might be interfering in the private business between Magica and Scroogie, that couldn’t be.  
  
She chanced a look up at the third-floor window to spy a curtain moving, and she grinned wickedly. Excellent. Everything was working out perfectly, then.  
  
Gladstone stole her attention away, and she no longer paid the slightest bit of attention to anything or anyone but him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Though she had calmed down considerably from earlier that night, Lena was still incapable of making overtures, particularly of the romantic variety, toward Dewey and Webby. Both had assured her that there was no pressure, and she should take her time. The worst part was that they were sincere, and yet, all she wanted to do was sequester herself in a bedroom and hide. Another part of her rebelled against that and wanted to luxuriate in their presence. She wanted to hold and be held by them. It was probably the part of her that had been touch-starved her entire life. Growing up, aside from Webby and now Dewey, almost no one had ever laid a hand on her. Aunt Magica didn’t count.  
  
As it was, she waited outside their suites and folded her arms across her chest. She felt exposed in a nightgown and rubbed her arms. It wasn’t cold in the manor, although Scrooge could be stingy when it came to heating and cooling. He didn’t get and stay rich by indulging himself or his guests, for that matter. No, the cold she felt was preternatural, inflicted from within.  
  
“Lena?” Webby ventured. She, too, had changed into a nightgown. They’d required help to get out of their elaborate wedding dresses, although, of course, Dewey didn’t need much help, seeing as he’d worn a suit. Lena wished she’d thought of that, though she knew that the dressmaker would’ve been aghast at a girl wearing a tuxedo.  
  
Dewey was within the suite, then, by himself. Webby put her hands on Lena’s shoulders and peered into her eyes. The startling blue, as always, captivated Lena. Unable to help herself, Lena flung herself into Webby’s arms. Webby hugged her tightly.  
  
This was what she’d wanted, what she’d always wanted. Why did she deny herself? Was she doing what Dewey and Webby had accused her of, letting Magica win? If so, what was the point? She denied herself future happiness because she hated herself? Yes, well, that was true, but she’d hurt Dewey and Webby besides. While she believed in punishing herself, she didn’t want to inflict pain upon the others. They’d done nothing to deserve it. Webby had injured herself on Lena’s behalf (well, Lena and Mrs. Beakley).  
  
“Sorry,” Lena said and smiled at Webby. Even in a nightgown, she was radiant. Her _wife_  was radiant. Surprising Webby, she kissed her hard on the lips. Webby squealed in delight and kissed her back.  
  
Dewey popped his head out from the suite. “Uh, am I missing something?”  
  
“No,” Lena said, breaking off the kiss to blow Dewey a raspberry. “You’re not missing anything at all. Go back in there, blue. We’ll start and finish without you.”  
  
“Hey!” Dewey objected, and Lena grinned wickedly.  
  
“You seem like you’re in a better mood,” Webby ventured. Lena still hadn’t released her. She was hers. She could hold her and touch her whenever she wanted. Webby belonged to her. Okay, yes, her and Dewey, but still.  
  
“Let’s go into the suite, pink,” she replied. She smirked at Dewey. “Wanna watch?”  
  
“You’re not serious, are you?” he asked and then turned to Webby. “Is she?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Webby said with a matching grin. “I mean, if you don’t feel like participating, then it’s really on you, isn’t it?”  
  
“I want to participate!” he huffed.  
  
“Then why are you standing in the doorway staring at us?” Lena countered and, keeping one arm about Webby’s waist, put the other one on her hip. “You’re not impressing me, blue.”  
  
Webby stepped forward, not so much that Lena lost her grip on her, but enough so that she was pushing Dewey back into their suites. Lena admired her. She was still shorter than her and probably always would be, but she was fierce, perhaps because of her smallness. Webby was like a crouching animal ready to spring, and Lena loved her for that, among so many other things.  
  
“I’ll show you impressive,” Dewey vowed.  
  
“Oh, really? Because all you seem to be doing is bragging,” Lena replied as she and Webby entered the suites and locked the door behind them. “I’m not seeing anything that’s impressing me. Are you, Webs?”  
  
“Nope,” Webby replied, grinning. “Not at all.”  
  
“Looks like you need to step up your game,” Lena teased. Dewey scowled and then, getting the look on his face that the girls knew well as the “I’ll show you” look, leaned forward and kissed Lena. Lena was surprised, not the least because Dewey was rather aggressive, and she smiled. She didn’t love Dewey, not yet, but she could grow to love him.  
  
And since Webby had chosen them both, she supposed she had better get used to it. Neither of them was going anywhere any time soon.  
  


* * *

  
  
They needed to get an early start if they were going to start hunting for that lamp soon. Scrooge and Goldie had finally ended up in Scrooge’s bedchamber, where they’d alternated between sleeping and other less wholesome activities. Scrooge awoke before Goldie and stared at her blonde hair splayed out on the pillows. He wanted to Bond with her so badly that it was an ache. She wouldn’t let him marry her. She was too independent than that.  
  
He bet if he were the living embodiment of gold, she’d marry him. Ugh. He shook his head at his own foolishness. They’d been down this road before many times. There was no point in belaboring the matter. He was only going to agitate himself.  
  
“Could you stare a little less obvious?” Goldie grumbled. Her face was buried in the pillow. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”  
  
“Then I guess you won’t mind when I get started ‘fore you do and take the lamp first,” he teased, and she sprang up. Her hair was a mess, and he snickered. She poked at his forehead and his receding hairline.  
  
“Haha yourself, Moneybags. Like I’m letting you get ahead of me in anything. Well, except sex, but you can’t help that, can you?” she teased back, and he went scarlet. She grinned.  
  
“For the last time--” he started defensively.  
  
“Relax,” she said and pecked him on the cheek. “You take everything so seriously. Live a little. I’ll be ready in two shakes of a dragon’s tail. Or a little less if you’d get your hand off my leg.”  
  
Oh. Right. He blushed deeper and then sprang to his feet.  
  
“You know, I appreciate the view, but your nephews might want you to wear a bathrobe before sauntering in to have breakfast.”  
  
“O’course, I’m going to get dressed!” he snapped.  
  
“I mean, you don’t  _have_  to,” she demurred. “I mean, when we take off as dragons, we’re naked. When we Fly, we’ll be naked too.”  
  
His heart stopped, and then restarted.  
  
“Ye’re goin’ to give me a heart attack,” he grumbled.  
  
“That’d be a shame, then, because there were other things I wanted to do with you,” she purred.  
  
“Did you want to Bond or not?” he growled, and she shrugged. He couldn’t help but watch as her breasts rose and fell. Unfortunately, his attention to her chest did not go unnoticed. She cast a pointed look down and then back up at his face. If he could’ve gone any redder, he would have.  
  
“I’ll think about it,” she replied. “You take a gal treasure hunting enough times, and you never know. Maybe you’ll get your wish one of these days.”  
  
“Stop teasin’!” he huffed.  
  
“Now, Scrooge, what fun would that be? None. By the way, the last one to the breakfast table has to explain to Beakley what we did all night,” she said, and Scrooge growled. She laughed, dressing quickly. Damn her. And how was he turned on watching her dress, too? How did she manage to confound him and manipulate him so well? If he weren’t so hungry and determined to get a move on, he would’ve taken her again. It wasn’t like she was unreceptive, either.  
  
He dressed quickly too, misbuttoning in his haste. Unfortunately, either because she was more dexterous than Scrooge or because she was determined to beat him, she made it out of the room fully clad before he did. He was still stumbling into his pants as he entered the dining room, and Mrs. Beakley took one look at him and then another at Goldie and sighed.  
  
“It seems everyone had a busy night,” Mrs. Beakley said, putting down eggs, coffee, and toast on the dining room table. Scrooge fixed himself and sat down. Webby and Lena, along with two of the triplets trooped in. Scrooge assumed Louie was sleeping in. Of Donald and Della, there was no sign, which he thought peculiar. Then again, perhaps Della was still recovering from last night.  
  
Scrooge caught a glimpse of Webby’s face. The scars were fading, and when she opened her mouth, it looked like the wounds were healing faster. Ah, right, Bond healing. In addition to ensuring the continuation of the dragon species and linking dragons emotionally, mentally, and physically to each other, Bonds also accelerated healing through reaffirmation of their links. It usually required a consummation, which meant that the youngsters had completed the first step toward a full Bond.  
  
That also meant that they’d need to schedule the second ceremony soon and plan for their eventual separation. The three dragons would need to be teleported away from each other, their memories wiped, and only their sense of each other intact to allow them to locate each other and complete the last stage. Of course, that was usually for male/female and male/male Bonds. He wasn’t entirely sure how female dragons in dragon form, but never mind. That was a delicate topic he didn’t want to broach. Besides, given how much research Webby did, she probably had an idea and would share it with the officiator, perhaps at entirely too much depth for anyone’s comfort.  
  
“What makes you think that?” Dewey asked, his eyes darting around, and his cheeks reddening. “We didn’t do anything.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Well, at least the eggs won’t be an issue until the Flight.”  
  
Lena winced. Dragon eggs had to be incubated for six months before they hatched. That, however, was probably not why the girl was cringing. They were young to be embarking on that particular life journey. It was assumed that others would take care of the children while they worked on cementing their links to each other.  
  
“Speaking of which,” Mrs. Beakley said sharply, prompting his attention to return to his bodyguard/housekeeper, “your other nephew and Magica made quite a scene last night. In public, no less.”  
  
“Ugh, gross,” Lena said, pushing away her eggs. “I did not want to hear that.”  
  
“Then they’ll need the second ceremony too,” he said and then frowned. “Did they even have the first?”  
  
“They’re not married, so no,” Mrs. Beakley responded.  
  
“I’m not doing it at the same time as Aunt Magica,” Lena growled.  
  
“I dinnae say you would,” Scrooge reassured her. His brow furrowed, and his frown deepened. “We cannae allow her to keep her offspring, either.”  
  
“If Aunt Magica doesn’t kill it before it even hatches,” Lena muttered.  
  
Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley exchanged horrified glances. Though the statement had been rather blunt, Lena might have a point. If the Bond did not culminate in viable eggs that then hatched, the female would fall into estrus. And no one wanted that. Magica was unpleasant enough without that complication.  
  
“Does she have to have kids?” Dewey asked.  
  
“According to the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook--” Huey started.  
  
“How the hell is that in there?” Dewey asked, turning to his older brother, who was wearing a red pajama set.  
  
“The JWG has everything,” Huey informed him. “Anyway, according to the JWG, if she doesn’t, she’ll fall into heat. And then, well…”  
  
He grimaced.  
  
“Yes, that would be something we’d like to avoid, if at all possible,” Mrs. Beakley said.  
  
“I donnae think she’ll go through with the Bonding,” Scrooge said. “She’ll find some reason to put it off.”  
  
“And what if she doesn’t?” Huey said. “What then?”  
  
“I’d like to know how she’s going to fly with an eye and tail out,” Lena snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”  
  
Scrooge sighed. “Gyro may have to make something for her in the lab.”  
  
“No!” Lena said, springing to her feet. “Why should we help her when she’s been nothing but trouble? Let her try to Fly without it. If she crashes, too bad.”  
  
“Lena, we cannae let her break her neck--”  
  
“Why not?” Lena growled, and Webby and Dewey put hands on her to restrain her. The older girl was trembling in a fine rage. “What difference does it make? If she dies, then it’s her fault.”  
  
“Granting her mercy is what differentiates us from her,” Mrs. Beakley said quietly.  
  
“We cannae be so cruel as that. We have to give her a chance.”  
  
“Why?” Lena protested. “Why should you? How does she deserve one? She would’ve killed me if Cal hadn’t intervened. And if she attacks me again, she’ll kill Dewey and Webby too. Or are you willing to risk that?”  
  
A heavy silence fell over the breakfast table. Goldie, drinking coffee, quirked her eyebrows at Scrooge.  
  
“Well?” Goldie said. “The girl has a point. Once you’ve started the Bonding process, killing one of them will either kill the other(s) or drive them insane before they die and possibly bring others down with them. It’s not just Magica’s life that’s at stake here.”  
  
“And if she’s already started the process with Gladstone, it’ll kill or drive him insane if she dies,” Scrooge said quietly.  
  
“So? He chose her,” Lena said, but there was less vitriol in her comment now. She looked uncomfortable and shrugged. “I don’t know why he did. I don’t know what he sees in her.”  
  
“With that necklace, she cannae touch you,” Scrooge replied. “Gyro will give her a way to navigate in the air and a way to compensate for her lack of depth perception. She cannae hurt you again, Lena. I promise.”  
  
Lena sat back down, but she was still visibly upset. Her lower lip quivered, and she swallowed hard. Webby stroked her hair, and Dewey took her hand. Their touch comforted her, but not enough to completely calm her down.  
  
“She doesn’t deserve mercy,” Lena said, at last, glaring at the table cloth.  
  
“Maybe not,” Scrooge agreed, and she looked up at him. “But we aren’t barbarians. And if Magica chooses not to Bond fully, then make no mistake. She will be executed.”  
  
The pronouncement hung heavily over the breakfast table, and Goldie whistled.  
  
“Dark tidings for breakfast,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Ready to go treasure hunting, Scroogie?”  
  
“Aye,” he said. “Beakley, ye’ll call me if anything comes up?”  
  
“Of course, Mr. McDragon,” she assured him, and her expression clouded, resembling Lena’s for a moment. “Anything at all.”  
  
“Good luck,” Huey said, and Scrooge inclined his head.  
  
“You too,” he said. “To all of ye.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Violet Sabrewing is introduced, the plot moves forward, and there are some Scroldie and Magicstone filler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.2k words. That’s the longest I’ve written in a while. Man, Scrooge was pissed at the end of the chapter. I had to stop where I was because his anger was filtering in through to my RP.
> 
> On an unrelated note, if anyone wants to RP with me for DuckTales...:P

“We need to plan the second ceremony,” Huey announced. They were all gathered together in one of the sitting rooms, including Donald and Della. Della looked weary but radiant, beaming at Dewey, Lena, and Webby. Lena, who was uneasy with adult approval, looked askance. Dewey beamed back at his mother, of course, and Webby smiled indulgently. Dewey had been a mama’s boy without a mama until they’d found her in the jungle.  
  
“After that ceremony, you three will be separated, without cell phones and put in remote areas of the continent,” Huey continued. “You’ll be stuck in your dragon forms and cannot communicate verbally with anyone. You’ll also be cut off from your mates telepathically--you’ll be able to feel their emotions and their proximities but won’t be able to talk to them.  
  
“You might’ve already noticed the telepathy between yourselves.”  
  
Lena ducked her head and stared at the floor. Webby moved closer to her on the couch and squeezed her hand. Dewey on Lena’s other side wrapped an arm about her. The three Bondeds were sitting on one couch, Donald and Della on another, and Huey and Louie on a third off to the side so that they could look at everyone. Louie had been scrolling on his phone on and off, probably running another scheme. Right now, he was the least of their problems.  
  
Huey was reading from the JWG, but he’d also memorized the information. He’d read it over many times since before the first ceremony. Lena knew him well enough to know he had memorized it because he thought it was soothing to be able to bring up the information swiftly. Although he wouldn’t be losing Dewey, not really, this was the first time in history that the boys had been separated for an extended period. They were growing up, older, and apart. And Huey, who considered the triplets a cohesive unit, was doing his best to deal with it without crumbling.  
  
Lena had never had close siblings like that. The closest she’d come was being able to hang out with the triplets when she was with Webby. She didn’t know what it was like.  
  
“It might take you a few weeks to locate each other and finish the consummation,” Huey added. “As the dragon form doesn’t...allow...for certain acts...there will be a spell performed before the second ceremony for Webby and Lena.  
  
“And that’s all I’m going to say about that because as far as I’m concerned, you’re both my sisters, and that’s gross.”  
  
“What’s the matter? You don’t want to watch?” Lena teased. She glanced at Webby, who was grinning at her. Lena pushed back the desire to kiss her. She had experience in ignoring her desires, no matter how strong they were. For almost four years, she’d wanted to jump Webby, but she’d been good and disregarded it. It wouldn’t help.  
  
“No,” Huey said succinctly. “Anyway, we need a date. A couple of weeks between the first consummation and the second ceremony is traditional. Any more than that, and we risk leaving the Bond halfway consummated, which means that it could be unwoven if someone knew the right spell. Or someone wanted to capitalize on it, like Magica. If the second ceremony isn’t performed by the time four weeks have elapsed…”  
  
“We get it, we get it,” Dewey huffed. “We’re not gonna let it happen. Set it for two weeks from now. What’s with all the doom and gloom, anyway?”  
  
“Uncle Scrooge and Goldie got as far as the first ceremony and consummation,” Huey said quietly, putting the JWG under his hat again. “They aren’t officially married, and they never completed the Flight. It tends to leave people unhinged if they haven’t done the Flight. It’s like throwing a ball, and it never landing because it’s still in the air. Forever.”  
  
“Or like the beat never drops on dubstep,” Dewey said, and Huey grimaced.  
  
“Yeah, like that, except less annoying than dubstep. Also, with it partially consummated, if one party dies and leaves the other, in every single case, the other dragon loses their mind. It’s the number one cause behind mass killers among dragon kind, unfulfilled Bonds. Of course, fully consummated Bonds where one dies, the other soon follows, but when it’s not fully consummated, the other person lives as a lunatic.”  
  
Huey pulled out the JWG again in the awkward pause that had ensued.  
  
“Not everyone’s a candidate for Bonding. Not everyone finds their true love. Some people have loves, but they’re not their soulmates. Only soulmates can Bond.”  
  
“So Magica might not be able to Bond with Gladstone anyway,” Lena said, smug.  
  
“The first consummation has already occurred,” Huey pointed out and grimaced. “That’s not something I wanted to think about either. But the chances are increased that they’ll be able to go through with it. That’s another reason to have the second ceremony soon, so you three are out of danger before they end up on their Flight.”  
  
“You lose your memories, don’t you?” Lena said and swallowed hard.  
  
“But you’re still acting on them, conscious or unconscious,” Huey reminded her.  
  
“Maybe it should be sooner than two weeks,” Donald said, glancing at the boys with a frown.  
  
“But any less than that, and we won’t have time to prepare,” Della objected.  
  
“The second ceremony tends to be a much more intimate affair,” Huey said. “I think we should be okay if we have only a week.”  
  
“Assuming Uncle Scrooge comes back before then,” Della pointed out.  
  
“We might have to have it without him,” Dewey said, and his words fell heavily. “What? Just saying.”  
  
Della grimaced. “I’d rather not. But you have a point. We can’t wait on Uncle Scrooge to get here for the ceremony. Plus, someone has to keep Magica in line.”  
  
“Or throw her under a bus,” Lena muttered. She had no problem imagining a bus running her aunt over. And over. An evil grin spread across her face, and Webby shot her a worried look. She'd forgotten that she had a dark sense of humor courtesy of Aunt Magica. And that Webby and Dewey didn't.  
  
“We’re not throwing anyone under a bus,” Donald said, and Lena rolled her eyes. Of course, they weren’t. They weren’t any fun at all. And wouldn’t Magica dead solve a lot of problems? In Lena’s mind, it definitely would.  
  
Magica didn't even have to be mortally wounded. Lena suppressed a snicker.  
  
“Do we have a vague idea where we’ll be?” Dewey asked, changing the subject. He could sense Lena’s thoughts too, and, to her surprise, he and Webby leaned forward to touch her hands. Warmth rushed through her, and she was embarrassed by it and the support they showed her. She didn’t deserve them. They were too good for her. Abashed, she didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.  
  
“It’ll have to be somewhere unpopulated or relatively low populated,” Huey answered. “Beyond that, we’re not allowed to tell you.”  
  
“But you know,” Dewey pressed.  
  
“Of course we know,” Louie scoffed. “We’re not going to dump you somewhere and then spend weeks wondering where you went.”  
  
“But in the history of Bonding, the couples and threesomes never failed to find their significant others,” Huey added.  
  
“There’s always a first time,” Louie teased, and Huey elbowed him. Despite that, Louie smirked.  
  
“But anyway…” Huey said. “We’ll be able to monitor it. We’ll make sure nothing goes wrong. Not that we’re anticipating that it will.”  
  
Except Magica was still a factor. Lena’s stomach churned, and Webby and Dewey clutched her hands tightly. She had to stop herself from thinking that although they’d consummated the first time, there was still time for them to change their minds. That was a dark mental road to travel, and they’d cotton on quickly. Her self-loathing rose nonetheless and burned her insides. It was like a weight she couldn’t get rid of.  
  
“As long as you have your necklace in dragon form, you’ll be okay,” Webby assured Lena.  
  
“For the actual ceremony itself, we have a non-denominational priest to help,” he continued, determined to keep the conversation from deviating. “Like I said. I’ll bring him in a couple of days from now, and we’ll catch him up.”  
  
“Is it anyone we know?” Louie asked idly.  
  
“Fenton,” Huey admitted and blushed. Everyone looked up at him, and he huffed. “What? He read some courses online, and he mostly knows what he’s doing. He’s good for it.”  
  
“Not sure I can trust someone who can barely keep a suit that’s powered by his brain in check,” Louie said. “Just saying.”  
  
“It takes a while for him to get acclimated to changes in the suit!” Huey said hotly, clearly defensive about his favorite superhero.  
  
“And what if he ends up Bonding our brother to, say, the koi pond instead?” Louie teased.  
  
“He will not!” Huey snapped, jumping to his feet.  
  
“Louie,” Donald said in a warning tone. “Don’t rile up your brother.”  
  
“I’m just making a point,” Louie said, but he looked smug. Lena rolled her eyes. Brothers.  
  
“He’ll be fine,” Huey said in a tone that sounded downright threatening. Lena snickered.  
  
“Don’t you start in,” the red attired boy warned Lena. She didn’t even feign an innocent look. Instead, she exchanged grins with Louie. Huey was too easy a target sometimes.  
  
“You can’t give us a general idea where the others will be?” Dewey pressed. This was unusual. She could feel his agitation and wondered what was feeding it. Was he anticipating trouble? She couldn’t penetrate deeply enough to determine that. Unconsciously, her hand slipped toward her amulet, and she squeezed it until its edges dug into her palm. In doing so, she released Dewey’s hand. Her heart thudded.  
  
“Midwest, Southeast, and North,” Huey said. “That’s it. And I can’t tell you who will be where because that’ll be randomized.”  
  
Nonetheless, the information seemed to mollify the middle triplet, and he settled back. His gaze landed on Lena, and Lena wished she could relinquish her grip on the amulet, but she was still apprehensive. There was time for Magica to make another move and punish her for letting Poe die. She’d failed her father. Horrible guilt swept in with the self-loathing, and she wished she could leave the room. She also wished she knew how to wall out Dewey and Webby to keep them from knowing what was running through her mind.  
  
“She won’t touch you,” Webby hissed. Lena had a flashback to last night and the feel of her skin against hers. She felt guiltier, knowing how much she’d enjoyed being with the two of them. How much she loved Webby and how she was growing to care for Dewey.  
  
“I can always distract her,” Della suggested with an impish grin. “She’s hated me forever. And then there was that fling we had…”  
  
“Ew, gross!” the boys exclaimed, and Lena stared hard at the female Dragon.  
  
“You’re kidding, right?” Lena said.  
  
In answer, Della just kept grinning. Webby looked torn between filing that away for future knowledge of the Dragon clan and being disturbed by it. The boys certainly were. Lena was unsettled, as she didn’t like to think of Magica as anything other than pure evil. And pure evil didn’t have liaisons like that.  
  
“That was more than I wanted to know,” Donald grumbled.  
  
“Same here,” Louie muttered.  
  
“It’ll all work out,” Della reassured Lena. “I won’t let anything happen to my daughter-in-law.”  
  
Lena flushed. That was right. She wasn’t Lena de Spell anymore. She and Webby had taken Dewey’s last name. Well, Webby had hyphenated. Lena was Lena Dragon, and Webby was Vanderquack-Dragon. Lena had some fun last night teasing her about being Webby V-D. Webby interlaced her fingers with Lena’s.  
  
“So, with that in mind…” Della suggested. “I can make cake--”  
  
“No,” Huey said hastily. “That’s okay, Mom.”  
  
The last time she’d made a cake, she’d set the oven on fire. Mrs. Beakley had not been pleased with the result. There was an unwritten rule that while Donald was a disaster in the kitchen, he was at least relatively innocuous. Della, on the other hand, was a hot mess that Mrs. Beakley didn’t want anywhere near anything that could explode, burst into flames, or otherwise destroy itself.  
  
“Mrs. B can make the cake,” Dewey added quickly to avoid hurting his mother’s feelings. “No offense, Mom.”  
  
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied. “After all, we don’t want an exploding oven. Again. Mrs. B never let me live that one down.”  
  
Della grimaced, shaking her head. The memory still stung, years later. She’d tried making a cake when she returned home from her jungle adventures to celebrate her children’s missing birthdays, and it had gone as well as to be expected--more excitement than actual skill, as Webby had told her, albeit in a more tactful way than that. Mrs. Beakley’s anger was legendary, mostly because Della had set the kitchen on fire as a result of her baking attempts.  
  
“Well, now that that’s settled,” Della added, attempting to regain face, “we should celebrate. I’ve never planned a second ceremony before.”  
  
“You and Huey have fun with that,” Louie said. “I’ll be here. On my phone. Ignoring you.”  
  
“Aren’t you excited?” Webby asked, jumping up and down in her seat. “We’ll be linked together for centuries!”  
  
Lena would’ve been more excited if she hadn’t suspected her aunt was biding her time, waiting for the right moment.  
  


* * *

  
  
Magica had two things occupying her mind right now. One of which was, of course, revenge. The other was fretting over Bonding with Gladstone. Now that she’d consummated it, he could feel her emotions too. No one had ever known her so intimately, not even her brother. Love and compassion were supposed to be a weakness. Gladstone could turn her weakness against her.  
  
Magica had isolated herself from her betrothed and was standing in his kitchen, which had a beautiful view of Dragonburg Bay. From here, she could almost see Cape Suzette. Her heart hammered in her ribs. Gladstone could destroy her and so quickly, too. She was terrified, especially because she knew that everything running through her head could if he were paying attention to it be in his mind as well. She rubbed her arms.  
  
Bonding wasn’t supposed to be like this. For anyone else, she assumed it wouldn’t have been. For anyone else, particularly someone more light-sided, they would have been luxuriating in it. Magica’s throat was tight. It was too late to back out. She’d passed the point of no return.  
  
What if Gladstone saw her for who she truly was and decided not to go through with it after all? Beyond Scrooge deciding her life was forfeit, it’d mean someone knew her for her and decided to repudiate her because of it. Because even they knew her soul was rotten. Usually, she wouldn’t have cared. But with Gladstone, she cared all too much.  
  
From here, she thought she could see Baloo’s plane too, though it might’ve just been a speck in the sky. She could’ve been imagining it. She knew she wasn’t imagining her heart pounding or her dry palms that she kept wiping on her dress. It was the same dress she’d worn last night, not having bothered to change or shower yet. She kept expecting the second shoe to drop, and in that position, she couldn’t allow herself the vulnerability that showering left.  
  
She was being stupid. She knew she was, and yet, she was powerless to stop it.  
  
That was another thing. Love made you stupid. She had mocked Lena for the same thing, and yet, here she was. Magica rested her head against the cool glass door that looked out onto the balcony of Gladstone’s high-rise apartment. That same plane speck was doing loop de loops. She almost wished she were there instead.  
  
A sentimental fool. That’s what she was. Magica sighed, self-loathing burning through her. She’d far rather be arrogant and ignore her insecurity. She was Magica de Spell, for fuck’s sake. She was the best sorceress she’d ever known or ever would know. Yes, she was missing an eye and a tail. Yes, a child had bested her. She might’ve been down, but she wasn’t out. And she could still take her revenge on Webby and Lena.  
  
That was another thing. If she got her revenge on them, Gladstone might repudiate her. Her heart clenched. Surely as a neutral creature, he would understand her need for vengeance. It was only light-siders that didn’t perceive the necessity for it. She extended her mental powers out, but, again, Lena was defended by that necklace. She’d grown so accustomed to lashing out at Lena to relieve stress and help herself feel better that she felt bereft without that outlet.  
  
A small purple and black dragon was flying over the bay and caught Magica’s attention. Dragons weren’t uncommon in a place named after them, of course not, but the black and purple dragon intrigued her nonetheless. She sensed untapped magical potential, and it’d been a long time since she’d noticed that outside of her niece. Who might this be?  
  
And would she answer if she reached out to her mind? Could she do so? She knew she had a mental connection with Lena due to their shared blood. This creature, however, might not be able to respond. Crooking her mental finger, she beckoned the purple and black dragon toward her. The female dragon turned, and Magica smiled.  
  
Violet. Violet Sabrewing. The girl had no mental defenses, clearly not anticipating any attack, and knowledge of her and about her flooded Magica with a simple nudge in her mind. Not only was Violet unguarded, but she was also naive. She had no idea she had such magical potential or that she was transmitting herself to anyone capable of receiving that transmission. Magica’s smile broadened.  
  
The girl was a bookish sort, which meant she had no street smarts. That was even better. She wouldn’t know how to protect herself against Magica’s onslaught. But Magica didn’t intend to attack her. This required a more deft touch.  
  
It was almost pathetic how vulnerable Violet was to Magica’s probing. She was ambitious, which impressed her. She wanted to know more about magic and yet was turning to the wrong thing--books--which were too dry and weak to hold her attention for long. Sooner or later, Violet would want to experiment with the real thing, and Magica intended to be there when she did to entice her. Violet wasn’t associated with the Dragons or Lena. That meant she was a new canvas and utterly oblivious to Magica’s machinations.  
  
She might be able to foist her off on Lena or Webby. If she could nab that necklace away from Lena, she’d be vulnerable before her again. If she could figure out a spell to immobilize Webby, one that Violet could enact, then Magica could swoop down and destroy her up close and personal. Unlike Violet, Webby wasn’t vulnerable to magical attacks. Mrs. Beakley had trained her granddaughter too well for her to fall for that. It was a shame, but then again, if killing her had been easy, she would have done it ages ago — impudent whelp.  
  
She let the plan foment in the back of her mind and folded her arms across her chest. Though she didn’t have a tail in humanoid form, she could feel its absence keenly. She caught herself rubbing the area above her rear where it should’ve been and suppressed a sigh. If she were honest with herself (and she was the only one she’d tell this to), she’d had it coming. Webby was fiercely protective over her loved ones, like everyone in that extended family. Loyalty was strong within clan McDragon and its associates.  
  
Focusing on that airplane speck again, she nonetheless heard footsteps over polished wooden floorboards and permitted Gladstone to approach her. She couldn’t have been oblivious to him anyway; the nascent Bond between them accentuated everything, including physical sensations. Her skin had prickled at his approach.  
  
He placed his hands on her shoulders and then drew her into his chest. His hands slid down to her waist, and she let him hold her.  
  
He didn’t speak, for which she was grateful. Instead, he rested his chin on her shoulder and then kissed her on the cheek. She moved slowly, wary of upsetting her balance, and kissed him on the lips. The spark, part of the Bond, leaped between them, and suddenly, she wanted more. If she’d had a tail, it would’ve been lashing in anticipation. Her heart thundered in her ears, and she could feel him responding. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Their kisses grew more intense, and his hands moved to a less chaste position on her body. He picked her up, carrying her over to the adjacent living room, and put her down on a couch before resuming their kiss.  
  
He wasn’t going to comment on her thoughts, though she knew he’d heard them or at least sensed them. That might’ve been the reason why his kisses were so passionate, though it wouldn’t end with kissing, not now.  
  
Gladstone broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. They were panting, and his hands had left her hips and rear to slip to her back. He was tugging at her zipper.  
  
“I’m never going to leave you,” he said, and her heart pounded. Was it an idle promise from a man who had never worked a day in his life? Or did he mean it? Was there even a remote chance he could see the darkness within her and not shy away? Her body and the spark, which was lust and love bundled in one, was impatient to get on with this and ignore her compunctions. She had to bite her lower lip to keep herself in line, and she feared that wouldn’t be enough, not for very long.  
  
“I mean it, Magica,” he said. He was having the same difficulty keeping himself in line as she was. Her hands drifted too and slid down his stomach.  
  
“I love you, and I’m never going to leave you,” he said and kissed her neck. His lips trailed down lower and ignited a fire in her stomach and groin. “I swear on my life.”  
  
Her lips quirked toward a smile. “You shouldn’t swear by that. You never know what could happen.”  
  
At least he hadn’t commented on her preoccupation with Violet. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed. And now it was harder to think because her desire for him was too strong to permit lingering on anything else. He moved against her, and she bit back a moan. All right, she’d figure out what she was doing with Violet later. She wanted Gladstone too badly to care about anyone or anything else.  
  


* * *

  
  
Goldie had wanted to fly the entire way in dragon form, but Scrooge’s problems with that were twofold. One, when they were both in dragon form, the urge to consummate the Bond with her in that form and ultimately link them was too strong to be denied. Two, and more importantly, they’d make better time in an airplane.  
  
The Sunchaser had left early with Launchpad at the helm. Both Scrooge and Goldie were too tired to make chit-chat, and Scrooge’s thoughts were miles away anyway. Part of him wondered, albeit a part he wouldn’t vocalize, whether he wouldn’t have been better off negating Magica’s influence years ago, back when he’d trapped her in dragon form. If he had known about Poe and Lena, he would have. He should have. He had no one to blame for their fate but himself.  
  
He could fix that. If he found the lamp before Goldie, he could wish for a reversal. You couldn’t change certain events in time--fixed points and all that--, but you could take someone out of time before they were about to perish. It hadn’t been done in centuries, because the magic that required it was immense. While dragons could demonstrate small magical feats, the more significant, stronger powers had started to fade out of the world. Only the ancient dragons, sorcerers, and sorceresses could accomplish it. Magica wasn’t one of those. She wasn’t that old, even--she was in her late thirties, the same age as Donald, Della, Fethry, and Gladstone. They’d grown up together.  
  
If he recalled correctly, Magica had always had a crush on Gladstone but had refused to act on it. He knew that they’d hung about each other, despite Scrooge discouraging it. It was like the more he curbed it, the more Gladstone insisted on meeting up with clan de Spell. They were ancestral enemies for a reason, damn it.  
  
Not that he could’ve done much. The boy was besotted and look what a rotten egg Magica had turned into. He ought to have known from the onset that Magica would be no good. Poe had shared her fate, too, because of her foolishness and stubbornness.  
  
Lena wasn’t cut from the same cloth, somehow. He didn’t know how she’d evaded that destiny, but he never would’ve allowed his grand-nephew to Bond with her if he’d felt differently. Webby was one thing. He knew Webby--she’d been around the manor since her parents had perished in a SHUSH related assignment. Webby might’ve been overenthusiastic and overeager, but she was loyal to a fault. Even to him, which he didn’t always deserve--but he wouldn’t admit that. After all, Scrooge McDragon had deserved all of his accolades and fan clubs.  
  
“I’d ask you a penny for your thoughts, but you’d probably keep it to yourself, you penny-pincher,” Goldie snorted.  
  
“It’s nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. He didn’t feel like divulging it right now, and she could probably divine it without much guessing.  
  
“Suit yourself, Moneybags,” she said with a shrug. “It’s gonna be a long flight if you don’t start talking.”  
  
“I could run Darkwing Dragon!” Launchpad offered.  
  
“No...that’s all right, laddie…” Scrooge said, wincing. Launchpad’s enthusiasm for Darkwing Dragon was too much most of the time. Or all of the time, if he were honest.  
  
“Making up your mind what you’re going to wish for?” Goldie prodded after another few minutes had passed in silence.  
  
He wanted to ask her why she wouldn’t Bond with him fully but knew that to question it would be to sound like a petulant child. They were meant to be together. They’d been through so much, including betrayal and backstabbing. Perhaps that was why she wouldn’t fully Bond with him. Maybe, at their basest level, they weren’t soulmates. He’d never heard of a Bond pair that, once started, didn’t share souls, but then again, he’d also never heard of a Bond that had remained half-consummated for this long. It’d been over a century, and she hadn’t flown with him. He kept telling himself not to think about it, which only seemed to make the problem loom larger.  
  
Goldie was watching him intently. “What?”  
  
“You’re not going to talk to me?” she asked, pouting slightly. “I’m hurt.”  
  
“What do ye care? You’re probably plottin’ how to stab me in the back as soon as ye get the lamp!” Scrooge snapped.  
  
“Such a lack of trust. How are we ever going to be partners if you can’t bring yourself to fully trust me, Scroogie?”  
  
“I’m not the only one who donnae trust someone!” he countered. “If ye fully trusted me, we’d be Bonded by now!”  
  
“Oh, this again,” she said and rolled her eyes.  
  
“Aye, this again,” he snapped back.  
  
“We’ve been over this. And over this. I’m not rehashing it with you again. Just get over it, old man.”  
  
He’d hit a nerve, and he wasn’t sure where. Part of him was determined to poke and prod at it until the reason was brought to light. A combination of frustration and fatigue swept over him. If Goldie wanted to have her secrets, then fine, he wouldn’t bother. She had made her stance clear, after all. They weren’t meant to be fully Bonded. He shouldn’t have been holding out for the impossible.  
  
“Then perhaps after we get the lamp, we ought to part ways,” he snapped. She frowned.  
  
“If you say so,” she said, shrugging. Her attempt at nonchalance was infuriating. Then again, she was, in general, being infuriating, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. No, nothing about Goldie should’ve been surprising, and yet, somehow, he ended up taken aback every single damn time.  
  
“You’ll be back as always,” he muttered. “Ye cannae leave well enough alone.”  
  
“Why spoil a good thing?” Goldie asked, shrugging.  
  
Scrooge was back to feeling like a petulant child. Folding his arms across his chest, he determinedly looked away. Launchpad was, thankfully, staying out of this. That was good because it was above his pay grade to interfere.  
  
“Are you going to hold it against me?” she asked.  
  
“Ye threw my ring back in my face!” he snapped, glaring at her.  
  
“The time wasn’t right. I can’t believe you’re still upset about that. That was sixty years ago. Get over it.”  
  
“Still feels like yesterday,” he muttered. He raised his voice. “An’ when is the time going to be right? Never?”  
  
“I don’t know. Jeez. I thought we were here to have a bit of fun, not this,” she snapped. “If you’re going to act this way, I’ll just fly to Peru myself.”  
  
“An’ still manage to head me off,” he grumbled.  
  
“I can’t help being faster,” she said and then frowned, perhaps sensing that now was not the time to needle him. “Scroogie, we need two different things. Why ruin a good thing, like I said, by putting expectations on it? We’re better off when we’re not serious.”  
  
“That’s your opinion,” he said. He didn’t want to continue this conversation if she was going to act like this.  
  
“You’re acting like a child.”  
  
“And you’re so innocent?” he shot back. “Little Miss Glittering Goldie O’Gilt? The Ice Queen of Dawson?”  
  
For a moment, she glared back. He matched her. He didn’t care if he was acting sophomoric. She’d stung his pride, of which he had a considerable amount. As far as he was concerned, her reasons were bull. She was stringing him along because she was afraid of something. Maybe she didn’t want to pair with him. Perhaps she only wanted their brief brushes, and that was it. Maybe he wasn’t worth it in her mind. The thought infuriated him, not the least of which because he felt he deserved better than that.  
  
“You knew all of this going into it,” Goldie countered. “Don’t act all surprised now.”’  
  
“You’re right,” he spat. “I shouldnae.”  
  
Another silence fell, this one tenser than the previous. It seemed that winning hadn’t been what Goldie had been after. Whatever she wanted, however, he was at a loss to provide it. She was right. This was going to be a long flight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-hiatus. I need to focus on my original works (my novels) and let's face it--this is too big of a distraction. Updates will still come, just not every week. Every two weeks, perhaps every three or every month. I'm sorry, but I have bigger fish to fry.

Once she was sure that Gladstone was sufficiently preoccupied with other matters, she hinted at Violet that she would like to meet at a cafe near McDragon Industries. Magica was banned from McDragon Manor. However, McDragon Industries was public property. If Magica was rubbing it in a little, then she was entitled. She thought this might work.   
  
She sat outside in the sun and ignored the looks other passerby gave her. They acted like she wanted to be maimed. She’d never regain sight in the eye Webby had torn out, but if Webby hadn’t wholly destroyed her tail, there was a chance it could regrow. It wouldn’t be in time for the Flight, but with Bond magic, eventually, it might become a stump that would evolve. It was pathetic to cling to that hope, and Magica huffed at herself.  
  
Violet was a slim girl with curly black hair and dark skin. She had that peculiar quality in some dragons that her skin was slightly iridescent and shone purple, which was probably where her scales had obtained their hue. Like Lena, she had a tail in humanoid form, though her tail bore a strong resemblance to a hummingbird’s rather than a dragon. Interesting. Violet was probably a half-breed, but it didn’t matter. She could work with her.  
  
She beckoned the young girl over; on closer inspection, she appeared to be about Webby’s age. She wore a long-sleeved shirt despite the warm weather, but perhaps she was conscious of how her skin shone like scales under the sun. Along with the green long-sleeved shirt, she wore black pants and bland black loafers. Her black eyes beheld Magica with interest at first and then hesitation. It seemed Magica’s reputation might have preceded her.  
  
“You’re Magica de Spell, aren’t you?” Violet said flatly.   
  
Magica smiled, deciding to take the high road. “I am. Sit, child. We have much to discuss.”  
  
Violet remained standing, hands on the chair back across from Magica. “You attacked Webbigail Vanderquack and Bentina Beakley. You’re one of the evilest dragons in history.”  
  
Magica rolled her eye. “I’m not evil. I’m misunderstood. I attacked Webbigail because she was harboring a blood traitor. My niece Lena. I had tasked Lena to borrow a few magical artifacts to restore her father to his former state, and instead, she procrastinated, and he perished. I was angry and not thinking straight.”  
  
There, that made her sound far more rational than what had actually happened. Magica shouldn’t haven’t been surprised that rumors were flying. After all, tongues will wag. It was annoying, but nothing she couldn’t overcome. Violet was still trepidatious. However, one foot inched closer to the chair.  
  
Interestingly, Violet had no aura on the astral plane. Webby (and her niece) were lightsiders, which meant they were as apparent to her magical other senses as beacons of light. She would appear to another person as shadows. Violet had neither darkness nor light, which meant she was neutral. That was unusual. True neutral was almost impossible to find. However, that thirst for knowledge and magical prowess had tainted her beyond pure light. It wasn’t heavy enough to slip her toward the dark side, not yet, but if she tweaked that ambition, it was possible.   
  
“You could have killed her,” Violet scolded. Magica rolled her eye again. She would not be condescended to by a child.   
  
“She could have killed me. She severed my tail and gouged out my eye. I was in far more danger from her than she was from me.”  
  
Violet crept toward the chair and dithered, seeming to make up her mind after thirty seconds of indecision. She sat opposite her, and Magica concealed a smile. She had her interest piqued. For Violet’s sake, she had tamped down on her evil aura so as not to overwhelm her. If Magica had wanted to, she could have subjected Violet to her deepest, darkest impulses. She didn’t want to scare her off.  
  
“Assuming I believe you,” Violet said, putting her hands on the table, “what could you possibly want from me?”  
  
“You have tremendous magical potential,” Magica said. “You could go far if you wanted to. You know this. You can feel it too, but you haven’t learned how to harness it yet.”  
  
While she had suppressed her magical aura from Violet, she had nonetheless impressed upon the waitstaff that she didn’t need their assistance right now. If they interfered, she could lose the precious ground she’d gained. She needed to hook Violet before pulling the rug out from under her. Violet needed to trust her at least a modicum.  
  
“There are other teachers.”  
  
“But have any of them approached you? Have you learned anything that hasn’t come out of a book?” Magica asked, leaning over the table.  
  
“Well, no. But why would you teach me? What could you gain from that? And that’s even assuming I’m interested.”  
  
Magica fought another smile. If Violet weren’t interested, she would have left already. She had her. She congratulated herself on having hooked her before Webby and Lena had found her. Webby had an annoying habit of brightening any darkness and inspiring loyalty. She’d stolen Lena away, after all.  
  
“I could teach you how to become truly powerful,” Magica continued. “All I’d need from you is a little favor in return. It’s minor.”  
  
Violet frowned. “And what if I told you I’m not for sale?”  
  
Oh, but she was. Who did she think she was fooling? Magica had to fight a grin. She placed her hands atop Violet’s and fed darkness into the girl’s aura. She pushed her way into Violet’s unprotected mind and nudged the ambition and desire for power. Violet had morals, true, but those could be eradicated in time. Plus, with this physical contact, it’d be easier for her to control her. This was one of the reasons Lena hadn’t wanted Magica to touch her. It hadn’t mattered in Lena’s case. Blood willed, and blood answered (except when it hadn’t, which she was not going to think about now, because if she wasn’t careful, that link to Violet could flip—all links went both ways, after all).   
  
The girl’s thin, bony fingers trembled in Magica’s grasp. Behind the ambition was a touch of fear, which didn’t surprise Magica at all. Like Webby, Violet had lived a sheltered life, protected from what her parents must have viewed as bad influences, which included the world at large. How horrified they’d be to learn that she was about to control Violet. Seeing as Violet was under her spell, she permitted herself a cruel grin.  
  
“I will teach you in exchange for a small favor,” she repeated. “I need you to either steal Lena’s necklace after the second Bonding ceremony, poison the water where Webby ends up, or disable Dewey. Any of those three things will affect the other two.”  
  
Her preference was for Lena’s necklace to be broken, but if that was impossible, then there were ways around it. “The other two will fly to the third’s aid. You need to do nothing after that. I will handle the rest.”  
  
Violet yanked her hands away from Magica. Her eyes were wide, and she was trembling harder. Her gaze sought Magica’s, and Magica slipped more compulsion into her mind. Such a foolish child. So open and trusting. Magica would destroy her after she’d drained her of any useful magic.   
  
“Do you understand?”  
  
Violet nodded. When she spoke, her voice quivered. “What’s...what’s to stop me from simply telling Webbigail about this?”  
  
“You won’t.”   
  
She wouldn’t because Magica’s compulsion would prohibit him from getting close to Webby until after Webby had lost her memories. Magica needed to find out from Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera where the three would end up going, but that was a trifle. He was too weak to resist her. It’d probably take no longer than five minutes to yank it out of him and then erase his memory of doing so.  
  
“Now,” Magica said and smiled, waving her hand. “We never met. You don’t know why you came to this particular coffee shop, and it doesn’t matter. You will go on with your life until you have completed your mission. I will know when it’s been accomplished, so there is no need to contact me again. Are we understood?”  
  
Violet nodded, resembling a sleepwalker, and Magica sent her on her way.   
  
With that completed, Magica decided that she would order a coffee. She was suddenly feeling rather cheerful. She watched Violet blend into the crowd and applauded herself. Now, if she could keep this from Gladstone, everything would fall into place.   
  


* * *

  
  
“Aren’t you excited?” Webby squealed, doing a cartwheel into Lena’s room. As always, Webby had forgotten that she was wearing a skirt, and her dress flipped up, revealing perhaps more than she’d intended. Lena smirked, putting her phone aside. Webby finished her cartwheel by flinging herself onto Lena’s bed and then into her wife’s lap. Wife. That would still take some getting used to.   
  
“You have to be excited,” Webby said. “We’re gonna be together for eternity or until one of us dies!”  
  
“Why don’t we work on one step at a time, pink?” Lena said with a small smile. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”  
  
“I don’t think I am,” Webby said and sprang out of Lena’s lap to catapult about the room. She was like a rubber ball that was solar-powered and would never run out of fuel, just bouncing here, there, and everywhere. Lena could get dizzy just watching her.  
  
“No one will ever separate us again. And then you can go on adventures with Uncle Scrooge and the triplets, and we’ll be a big, happy family!”  
  
“Why don’t we worry about getting through the second consummation first?”   
  
“Pfft, we’ll find each other, no problem,” Webby said, waving it off. Her eyes were huge, and Lena knew that she had entered her hyperactive phase. Through the years, Webby had managed to tap down on it, but it’d never wholly vanished. As Lena watched, Webby was spinning like a dervish.  
  
“Don’t you want to know what the final consummation is like? What it feels like to be completely and totally Bonded to someone?” Webby said, halting in front of Lena and leaning forward so that they were nose to nose. “Feeling their emotions, remembering what they remember, seeing what they see, and experiencing everything they do? It’s supposed to be incredible!”  
  
“I’m not so sure you want that…” Lena said, wincing at Webby’s enthusiasm. “I mean, you and Dewey are birds of a feather...but I’m nothing special.”  
  
She was dodging the real reason she thought Webby wouldn’t want to Bond with her fully--once Webby saw that Lena’s self-loathing was justified, she’d run for the hills. Lena’s throat was tight, and Webby’s gaze was entirely too keen.  
  
“What are you talking about? Of course, you are, you beautiful angel,” Webby said and cupped Lena’s cheek in her hand. “I love you.”  
  
“You know, it’s not too late,” Lena said in an offhand tone. “You could always have the Bond severed--”  
  
She didn’t get a chance to finish. Webby looked outraged that she’d even suggested it. Once that faded, it was replaced by genuine concern. She flung herself at Lena and bowled the older girl over. Lena stared and then wriggled a little; Webby had thrown her arms about her too and was holding her tightly, pinning Lena’s arms to her side as if Lena was about to fly the coop.  
  
“Do you think I’d let you go?” Webby asked, and the hyperactivity had disappeared. She was concerned now, and Lena felt their link, which was the equivalent of a thread between them mentally, thrum. Webby straddled her, which made the blood rush to Lena’s cheeks and elsewhere along her body. She still thought she wasn’t good enough for Webby.  
  
“I’m not saying that,” Lena said, lying. “Never mind.”  
  
“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Webby said, entirely too keen for Lena’s peace of mind. “You’re afraid that I’m going to see you and reject you. I love you. You know I love you. Dewey loves you. Neither of us is going anywhere, whether you like it or not.”  
  
Lena gritted her teeth. Webby could be annoyingly naive and illogical when it came to the people she cared about. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and she stared up at Webby atop her. What she wanted and what should be were two entirely different things. She wanted to kiss Webby until they were both dizzy and then make her scream her name again.   
  
She wanted to feel Webby inside of her, too, and she flushed harder. Webby would be able to tell where her thoughts had gone—straight into the gutter.  
  
What she ought to do was push her away and remind her that she was no good for her. That she’d killed her father and was a failure. She’d never accomplished anything in her life, and she was a no-name freak. Worse than that, she was a de Spell.  
  
Webby scowled. “Stop that.”  
  
She kissed Lena, softly and sweetly, and Lena’s heart raced.   
  
((I. Love. You. You’re not allowed to hate yourself.))  
  
She pulled back and cupped Lena’s cheeks in her palms. “You didn’t kill your father. Magica did. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be part of a family or loving someone.”  
  
Lena wasn’t convinced, but she had the feeling if she admitted as much, Webby would attempt to pound it into her head. Instead, she smiled. Dewey poked his head into the room and affection for both him and Lena swelled through Webby, and, as a result, Lena felt it like a disconnected emotion in the back of her mind. When they were fully Bonded, their feelings would be as one. They’d still be individuals, mind you, but everything would be tighter. Tighter.   
  
Jeez. That was another word that was leading her brain straight into the gutter.  
  
“Hey,” Dewey said. He looked awkward; he hadn’t spent much time in Lena’s room prior to the ceremony, and Lena took pity on him. She beckoned him in and, relieved, he entered. He joined them on the bed, and if the dirty thoughts could stop, Lena would appreciate it. The worst part was that Dewey and Webby were getting an inkling of that too, and they shared grins.  
  
“What’s going on?” he asked.  
  
“I was about to remind Lena how much we love her,” Webby informed him and grinned. “And also, how awesome it’ll be when we’re fully Bonded. I’ve been researching the Flight and everything, and it looks like female/female Bondings are unusual, but not impossible.  
  
“There are two possibilities. One, we Bond fully before the ceremony--”  
  
Lena was watching Webby intently; she couldn’t help it. This had her attention more than Webby’s proclamation that this wasn’t her fault. How exactly would they Bond fully before the ceremony?  
  
“--we’d need to be alone for that, obviously, but we’d have to say the spell ourselves and exchange Bond crystals,” Webby continued, aware of Lena’s interest. “The other possibility is that we have a version of the Flight, only we’d have to catch each other and then shift back into humanoid form. It can’t be done in dragon form.”  
  
“Little hard to have sex like that in dragon form,” Lena agreed, and Webby colored. Lena grinned impishly, and then Webby grabbed her for a quick kiss. Before Lena had a chance to reciprocate or even recover, Webby was back to discussing the Bond ceremony.  
  
“The other part of it will be the Chase followed by the Flight. The advantage of having the Bond ceremony with Lena and me first is that we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone interfering,” Webby said, and her expression darkened. “Uncle Scrooge should’ve kept Magica in the dungeon.”  
  
Lena was briefly surprised by Webby’s comment until she remembered her own behavior yesterday. Webby had every reason to despise the sorceress. Lena’s grin had faded, but a small smile replaced it as she pecked Webby on the cheek. Webby held her hand.  
  
“You don’t think Uncle Gladstone can keep her in line?” Dewey asked, and Webby and Lena shook their heads.  
  
“We need to be on guard,” Lena cautioned. “She’s not happy when she’s not getting her way, and after what Webby did to her, she’s even more unstable than usual.”  
  
Dewey opened his mouth.  
  
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Magica actually can get worse. It depends on which Magica values more--saving her own skin or getting revenge on me and Webby. She won’t come at us directly--she’s too weak and nursing her wounds. She’ll do something slant-wise.”  
  
“We’ll be on guard,” Webby promised.  
  
Lena frowned. She wasn’t sure if there was a way to be on guard against Magica 24/7. They would eventually falter, and then Magica would creep in. She shuddered, and her Bondeds hugged her. Lena allowed herself to be comforted and believe that she might be able to evade her aunt’s wrath. She wanted to believe badly, after all.   
  
“In the meanwhile…” Webby said and grinned. “There’s no harm in making sure that the consummation took.”  
  
“What are you--oh.” Lena flushed.  
  
“Of course it took,” Dewey said, but he didn’t get it as quickly as Lena did. “I mean--”  
  
“She means, blue, that we could stand a repeat,” Lena said and nudged him.  
  
“Oh. Right.” Dewey said and blushed too.  
  
“A little more practice can’t hurt,” Webby said serenely, and though Lena hadn’t worked out her issues, she was inclined to agree. A little more love couldn’t hurt.

* * *

  
  
Scrooge could be so prickly sometimes; usually, it amused her. Now she didn’t know whether she was irritated or worried. She wanted to Bond with him wholeheartedly. She’d just been very good at concealing it. Complications, particularly commitment, scared her. What Scrooge wanted would mean shackling her life to him, even if the thought of anyone else with him made her alternatively sick to her stomach and livid with rage. No one could touch him. No one else dared.  
  
However, she didn’t explain any of this to him. They were so old and set in their ways that she would have thought he’d have given up the ghost by now. No, of course not. Now he was more irascible than ever. She didn’t see how she was going to survive this trip with him without something giving. Maybe her sanity.  
  
It felt like there was a noose tightening about her neck. Why ruin a good thing by throwing titles around? True, she’d end up heiress to a considerable fortune, but it wasn’t worth it. Besides, he’d have to die first, and she didn’t want that. They were immortal, as far as she was concerned.  
  
When she looked at him, though, tenderness filled her, and she was quick to keep it from their link. If Launchpad hadn’t been there, she would’ve jumped Scrooge. They’d made love three times last night, and yet she wanted him again.  
  
Her throat was tight, and she looked away. Once she got the lamp, she’d be quit of him, one way or another. She’d have to be. It was either that or Bond fully, which was like a death sentence.  
  
Then again, not Bonding fully could render one or both parties insane too. She suppressed a sigh. She should have known better. She shouldn’t have started this mess. Balling her fists in her lap, she glared at the windshield. Couldn’t this hunk of junk go any faster?  
  
Would it be so bad to be fully Bonded with him? Desire pooled in her stomach. It seemed wrong that the children were Bonding before she and Scrooge did. Goldie glowered at the walls. She’d ask the genie to remove this hex on them and depart with Scrooge none the wiser. That was her solution.   
  
Yet memories of last night and their shared intimacy threatened to crowd in. How right it’d been. How easy it’d been. How much they loved each other.  
  
But she loved gold more. She told herself that and had convinced herself it was true. Whether or not she believed herself was another story.  
  
Peru was too far away, and her patience was unraveling. She needed something to do and fast before she decided to fly there anyway.   
  
Goldie’s phone buzzed, and she scowled at the message. It was from Della.  
  
“Having fun, Aunt Goldie?”  
  
Della, in particular, liked to tease her about her relationship with Scrooge. She wanted to shake her fist at her. However, she had only herself to blame, and she put the phone away.  
  
She’d make her own fun and plot on how to reach the lamp before Scrooge. That ought to occupy her time. She hoped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena reflects on her life before her marriage; Magica frets about her relationship with Gladstone; Goldie and Scrooge argue about what they want out of their strange relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot off the presses, which means not proofread. Ahem. ^^;
> 
> I did warn you I'd be on hiatus, you guys. I need to work on Sunday Bloody Sunday and I'm hoping that that chapter will be done within the next couple of days. 
> 
> Work on the novel(s) is slow. Catch me on fictionpress.com for originals! Please?

Lena was alone for the first time in a few days. Her skin tingled from remembered embraces and kisses. If she closed her eyes, she could feel Webby’s lips on all parts of her body, and she hugged herself. Just the thought of it was enough to distract her; Webby was emphatic and effusive when it came to demonstrating her affection. Dewey wasn’t far behind her, either, though their relationship was new by comparison. Between them, she’d received more physical affection in the last few days than she had her entire childhood. She didn’t want it to end.  
  
Sighing, she fell to her knees. She deserved none of this. She’d killed Poe. What right did she have to happiness? Regardless of what the others said, she’d procrastinated until it was too late. No, she hadn’t led to him being shunted into that form; that was all Magica. But it’d been on Lena to remedy the problem, and she’d been so desperate to keep Webby that she’d refused to do her aunt’s bidding.  
  
Her hand touched the necklace Calente had given her. Her fingers tightened around it, and she was tempted to wrench it off and throw it away. Yet even as she thought that Webby and Dewey flitted through her mind and she couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair. If anything, she ought to continue to be punished, and she still couldn’t bring herself to let it happen. Even when the others were gone, she could feel them in her mind and her heart.  
  
They wouldn’t let Magica touch her again. After everything she’d done, it was a minor miracle her aunt hadn’t caused permanent brain damage. Or maybe she had. Perhaps that was the reason Lena was so hopelessly attracted to Webby. But she didn’t want to give this up. Losing Webby and Dewey would be too much like killing the good she’d encountered in this world. Even when she hated herself, even when she thought the world would be better off without her, she didn’t want anything to happen to Webby. And now Dewey too.  
  
She didn’t deserve their love, but she would do whatever it took to be worthy of it. Opening her eyes, she gazed at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy, and she smiled at her reflection. She looked happy. Pushing herself to her feet, she glanced once more at herself before leaving her old bedroom.  
  
The manor was busy making preparations for the upcoming ceremony, and also Mrs. Beakley had demanded that Magica be brought back where she could keep an eye on her. Even from two hallways away, she could hear Gladstone snapping at her about that. She didn’t know what that man saw in her aunt. She was a monster, as far as Lena was concerned. Again, her hand crept around to her necklace. She sighed, pushing away the dangerous thoughts and forcing herself to think of how excited Webby was every time they kissed.  
  
She wasn’t sure that she was ready to confront anyone, even with those pleasant thoughts bouncing around. So she re-entered her old room and sighed, sitting on her bed. It had only been a temporary room she’d ‘borrowed’ when she’d stayed over and hadn’t wanted to bother Webby. If she wanted to get her stuff, she ought to go back to that hole in the wall apartment building that Webby had tried to forbid her to enter. It was dangerous, and she could break her neck, which was part of what had made it so appealing.  
  
She’d always low-key hated herself. She’d just found different ways to express it.  
  
With everyone preoccupied, it was child’s play to sneak out of the manor. Now that she could fly, it was also faster and safer to return to her old apartment. As she landed at the door, it occurred to her that this might be a good time for Magica to ambush her. Or, rather, it would have been if her aunt wasn’t suffering from a problem with depth perception. There was no way Magica could’ve traversed those rickety stairs in her current condition, not without assistance. And there was equally no way Gladstone would let Magica up here just to torment her niece.  
  
Nonetheless, she shuddered as she scrambled into her old abode. Looking at it now, it was pathetic. The kitchen and bedroom shared space; she usually slept in a corner under the window seat. (The window seat was too small to fit her frame). The kitchen was bare-bones, with scarcely enough to cook and prepare meals. The fridge was empty, as she’d not filled it in weeks. What little money she’d managed to scrounge up from stealing from people, she usually put to use buying supplies. That was a nightmare she wouldn’t need to repeat.  
  
Her threadbare blanket was in a ball near her fluffy pink pillow; the pillow hadn’t been her choice. Webby had foisted it on her, and Lena hadn’t had the heart to tell her it was too bright and cheery for her. Smiling, she ran her fingers over the fake fur tufts that stuck out. On the back were pink sequins that resembled dragon scales. Somehow, taking the first step to full Bonding with Webby had only deepened her feelings for her. She loved her so much it felt like her heart might burst from it.  
  
Rising from the floor, she scanned her surroundings. Aside from her cell phone’s A/C adapter, a few extra pairs of clothes, and books she’d likewise stolen, some from the library and others from bookstores, she didn’t have much. There weren’t any pictures beyond what was on her phone, either.  
  
There was a small bathroom attached to the living space that was barely large enough to fit a shower and toilet. Aside from that, the apartment was bare bones. She had no business here, and it felt odd, like she was disconnected from her past. An air of misery pervaded the flat, and she recalled where she’d fallen ill, and Webby and Dewey had burst in to bring her back to the manor. She also recalled the times she’d forced herself to return here rather than stay at the mansion and let herself be happy. Magica had hated that, especially since it was harder for her to punish Lena from here. Her magic had a distance limit, and Lena smiled humorlessly. Poor Magica, unable to torture her recalcitrant niece.  
  
Grabbing a bag, she stuffed the books and her clothes inside and, casting one last glance about, nodded, and descended back down the rickety fire escape and toward the ground. Webby hadn’t bothered her while she’d been gone, which made her wonder whether she was aware of Lena’s intentions and hadn’t wanted to upset her. Dewey was likewise quiet, but she could feel them both within her mental reach. It was a welcome change from feeling Magica lurking in her mind.  
  
Even when they weren’t paying attention to her, she knew she was loved and wanted. She made her way back to the manor with a smile on her face. Deep in thought, she didn’t pay attention to her surroundings and didn’t notice she’d bumped into someone until that someone spoke. Frowning, Lena looked down at a girl about Webby’s height, give or take a couple of inches, with black curly hair, iridescent purple skin, and hummingbird feathers for a tail. Lena thought she’d known every kid in Dragonburg, or at least the kids that hung out with the triplets. This one didn’t ring a bell. Then again, it wasn’t like classes weren’t heavily stratified due to income level. Lena had barely been hanging on as a de Spell/le Strange with her limited income and had been tolerated among the upper echelons due to her association with Webby. The street urchins were a different matter.  
  
This girl didn’t strike as a street urchin, however. She didn’t know who she was. Obviously, she was a dragon and possibly a half-breed, if her strange tail was any indication. Lena grew more aware of her own tail, which was curled about her right leg. Sometimes she forgot she had it in humanoid form. Then, for times like these, she recalled all too well.  
  
“Good day,” the girl said, strangely formal. Her gaze settled on Lena’s necklace in a way Lena found unnerving. She didn’t know this girl--why was she ogling her jewelry?  
  
“Hi,” Lena said. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t walk straight into people. Just saying.”  
  
“You’re Lena de Spell,” the girl continued, unperturbed. Lena’s skin crawled.  
  
“I’m Lena Dragon,” she corrected. “Lena Vanderroar Dragon, if you wanted to be specific.”  
  
She’d wanted Webby’s last name too and had cast her own aside like so much rubbish. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Shifting aside, she moved back on her path only to find the other girl was attempting to block her way.  
  
“Look. I don’t know how you know me, and I don’t care. Could you move?” she asked, attempting to be polite.  
  
“Of course,” the girl said and stepped away. Shaking her head, wondering what the hell was going on, Lena strode off. The encounter had left her rattled in an undefinable way. She didn’t know the girl from a hole in the wall, yet the reverse couldn’t be said. Moreover, the way she’d been staring at Lena’s necklace the entire time like she knew what it portended, had her discomfited.  
  
Maybe she’d do sleuthing of her own. Webby would like that. She’d figure out whether Webby had any idea who the girl might be and what her intentions were. Of course, that was provided Webby and Dewey weren’t too busy planning the second ceremony with Huey, who wanted to be in charge of everything. Elaborate parties weren’t Lena’s scene, even if she, Dewey, and Webby were the main attraction.  
  
She arrived at the manor and had a few seconds to push the door closed before Webby tackled her and hugged her tightly. Lena dropped her bag in shock, though she should’ve known it was coming. After all, she could sense Webby’s approach now. Lena hugged her back and swung her around, finishing with her arms about her.  
  
“You’re in the ceremony. You should be here,” Webby said. “Now, c’mon.”  
  
She let Webby lead her deeper into the manor and rolled her eyes. She put the strange encounter from her mind, at least temporarily. There wasn’t much for it, anyway. It’d just been a one-off, hadn’t it?  
  


* * *

  
  
Magica was using Violet as her eyes and ears in Dragonburg. The purple dragon was remarkably pliant, and she’d followed Lena up to her apartment and then back to McDragon Manor. When that was completed, she found herself facing Gladstone. He’d entered so stealthily she hadn’t heard him. Or perhaps she’d been too lost in her pawn. Or...or maybe they weren’t meant to be soulmates. Her heart pounded. She’d thought they’d started the Bonding process. However, if she wasn’t a candidate, then she was screwed.  
  
“Mrs. Beakley wants to throw you into the dungeons again,” Gladstone said quietly. He was quivering, but whether in anger or another emotion, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell. She ought to be able to if everything was going according to plan. Shock rolled through her. Whatever they’d done, whatever magic she’d summoned after their first consummation, it wasn’t Bond magic. It might not even have been magic. It might’ve been the magical equivalent of hysterical pregnancy.  
  
“You’re up to something,” he accused. “You haven’t let this go.”  
  
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she said tartly, “I’m blind in one eye and crippled to boot. How was I supposed to let this go?”  
  
“You’re supposed to be looking to the future! Webby was defending her grandmother and her best friend. Lena was trying her best--”  
  
“No,” she growled. “She wasn’t. That’s bullshit, and you know it. If she’d wanted it, she would have gotten it. She failed because she cared more about her precious friend than she did about saving Poe.”  
  
“Magica,” he said and sat beside her on the couch. “I’m trying to see things your way. I am. Even if we say what happened to Poe was an accident, you can’t keep punishing Lena.”  
  
“He was my only family,” she said. “He was the only one who stood by me. Am I supposed to forgive that?”  
  
He sighed.  
  
“Lena is your family too, or have you forgotten?” he said quietly. “And I’m supposed to be your Bonded.”  
  
“The magic isn’t working right,” she said and clenched her fists.  
  
“That’s because you’re blocking me out,” he said and took her hands. “You set up walls against me without even realizing that’s what you were doing. Magica, you have to let me in. You have to trust me.”  
  
She bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t have to trust him, but the alternative was much worse. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she said, “Okay.”  
  
Then, with an effort, she lowered the walls she hadn’t realized she’d raised. She trembled, and Gladstone rubbed her arms. He pulled her into him and rested his chin on her head. (She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve this).  
  
“There,” he said softly. “Isn’t that better?”  
  
Now that she’d eradicated the barriers between them, she could feel his emotions again. He was concerned about her frame of mind, and she realized a second too late that by lowering her walls, she’d also risked letting him have a glimpse of what she’d been up to in his absence. He pulled away from her and scowled.  
  
“I told you to stop, Magica!”  
  
“You don’t understand. I need revenge.”  
  
“No, you don’t. You need to let it go. Why are you roping innocent people into your schemes?” he asked.  
  
“How am I supposed to ignore what they’ve done to me, Gladstone?” she asked, and her voice was sharper than she’d intended. “They disfigured me. Lena killed my brother. I’m not touching them myself if that’s your concern.”  
  
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, resting back against the couch and shaking his head. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t have vengeance against Webby and Lena and Bond with me completely.”  
  
“You’re issuing me an ultimatum?” she demanded, insulted and also hurt.  
  
“I guess I am.” He sounded surprised at himself.  
  
She needed to figure out a way to salvage this. Fast. Before things fell too far out of her control, and she ended up throwing away her only lifeline.  
  
“You can’t punish Lena for falling in love,” Gladstone continued, taking her silence as permission to speak, which she had most certainly not granted.  
  
“Is her gaining Webby supposed to offset losing Poe?” she said sourly. She reached with her magic toward his aura, and he flinched. She flinched too. He wasn’t supposed to have felt that.  
  
“Bonded couples can’t manipulate each other, Magica,” he said flatly. “You know that. You can’t lie to your soul piece.”  
  
Couldn’t he feel her desperation? No. Wait, that was the problem. He could feel it all too well.  
  
He stroked her face with the back of his hand, and she shuddered, surprised.  
  
“Listen to me, Magica de Spell,” he said. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, for all of us, is if you let go of this vendetta.”  
  
“No,” she said, facing forward. There was nothing left to discuss if he was pushing her to the ledge. If he refused to listen, there was nothing left to do. She rose, and he yanked her back down and onto his lap. He could feel her shaking.  
  
“What if I helped you get over it?” he asked, and she frowned, staring at him in bewilderment.  
  
“And how do you propose to do that?” she countered.  
  
“There’s a way to resurrect Poe, isn’t there?” he asked. “Maybe something that requires more energy than you’d be able to use on your own?”  
  
“I…,” she faltered. Necromancy was the darkest of the dark sorcery. It was nothing for the faint-hearted. Moreover, using him as a power bank meant putting him at risk. Pained, she gazed at him.  
  
“I can’t put your life in danger,” she murmured. “You might die.”  
  
“You love me.”  
  
“Of course I love you,” she snapped. Currently, it was bringing her no joy, but, yes, she did love him. She balled a fist and then uncurled it, having dug her nails into her palm.  
  
He leaned forward and kissed her softly and sweetly. She reciprocated, and they continued until, breathless, they were forced to break apart.  
  
“I love you too,” he said, and she hugged him to her. He wrapped his arms around her. “If...if this doesn’t work, then we’ll do things your way.”  
  
“Wait, what?” she said, feeling like someone had flattened her with a steamroller. “You’d let me have my vengeance?”  
  
“I don’t want you to hurt Lena or Webby,” he said sternly. “If you can figure out a way to make your point without physical, emotional, or mental harm, then I’ll consider it.”  
  
He paused and then added, “And don’t think you’re getting around that by having someone else do your dirty work. But first, we’ll see about bringing Poe back. Perhaps time travel?”  
  
The gears in her mind were turning, albeit slowly. She focused on him, the feel of him and his chest rising against hers, the smell of him, the taste of him on her lips, and his earnest expression. He poured affection for her through their link, and she found herself close to undone. She shuddered again, and he kissed her neck.  
  
“Perhaps,” she allowed.  
  
“Don’t give up so soon,” he whispered. “I believe in you.”  
  
She might be able to restore Poe. She hadn’t considered that before. Truthfully, she’d been too focused on revenge to think about it. Gladstone’s hands were wandering along her body, and she gasped, arching into him. Don’t hurt Lena or Webby. Right. She’d figure out something.  
  
Her brain shut off as pleasure rocketed through her. She let Gladstone continue and decided to return the favor, her hands sliding down his stomach and towards his thighs. Their kisses grew more frantic and heavier.  
  
He’d been looking for her. He wanted her. He loved her. She couldn’t throw that away.  
  


* * *

  
  
They had finally arrived, and Goldie was in a bad mood. Scrooge took that as a good sign because it meant she’d be silent as they headed deep into the underground city. He wasn’t in a great mood, either. Remembering the ring being flung in his face had brought up old resentments and feelings of betrayal (not to mention her betraying him multiple times). There’d been a time he’d thought she’d rather go with Glomgold than be with him.  
  
“I can feel you brooding from here, old man,” Goldie snapped. They were walking side by side within a cavern while Goldie held her phone up for light. Scrooge, the traditional sort, was using a torch. Besides, his cell phone, as a flip-phone, didn’t have a flashlight feature. He didn’t have the time or inclination to worry about sorting out new technology.  
  
“Of course ye can,” he snapped back. “Ye’re standing right next to me. I’m just waiting for you to decide when ye’re gonna betray me and run off with the treasure.”  
  
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said haughtily. “I figure I’ll leave it for when you least expect it.”  
  
“I cannae keep going on like this with ye!” he snapped, pulling away. “I cannae trust ye worth a damn and ye keep harping on it. Ye want to find the treasure lamp, fine, be my guest. But maybe we should be looking separately!”  
  
“Scrooge, I’m hurt,” she huffed. “I may be the Ice Queen of Dawson, but I have feelings too. They’re buried beneath an iceberg, but they’re still there.”  
  
“Sure they are,” he said darkly. “And they’re all greed and selfishness.”  
  
“Scroogie,” she entreated, “you really think I don’t care for you?”  
  
“I think you’d throw me overboard in a heartbeat if ye thought ye could get to the lamp faster!” he snapped.  
  
“True, but I’d feel bad about it afterward,” she said.  
  
“I should have gone alone!” he snapped. “Ye’re nothing but a distraction and a nuisance!”  
  
She tensed, looking on the verge of admitting something, perhaps a vulnerability, but the moment passed, and she shook her head.  
  
“If I’m a distraction, it’s because you’re not paying enough attention to the things that really matter.”  
  
They sidestepped stalagmites and ducked under a stalactite. Scrooge’s anger mounted in the meanwhile. Goldie was so damnably infuriating.  
  
“If ye love gold me than ye love me, then why bother with the pretense? Why pretend to be here for anything but yerself?” he snapped.  
  
“Who said I was?” she threw back saucily.  
  
By now, they’d long lost natural light, and his torch and her phone were the only lights penetrating the darkness. His heart pounded, and indignation flooded him.  
  
“Why even bother to half Bond with me if ye never had any intention of following through?” he snapped. “Ye donnae care about anything about yourself!”  
  
“We have a magnetism, you and I. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it.”  
  
“O’course I’ve felt it. That’s the problem. Animals rut. A fool I was for thinkin’ this was anything different.”  
  
Goldie halted, and he was surprised by the look of genuine hurt on her face. She masked it quickly, but she’d let him see it, which meant he’d wounded her deeply. She put a hand on his face, and he could feel her heart racing at her wrist. Her gaze hooked onto him.  
  
“I was going to see the genie about getting rid of this. Then you’ll never have to worry about it again.”  
  
He jerked back, stunned, and likewise wounded. “Ye really think that’s what I want? How daft are ye, lass?”  
  
“Well, we can’t go on like this.”  
  
“And I donnae want to. I want ye. But ye donnae want anything but gold.”  
  
“Scrooge, I--” she stopped, swallowing hard. Whatever she wanted to say to him must’ve been difficult to choke out. But she’d stopped calling him by his nickname, which meant she was serious. She looked around, though why she thought someone might overhear, he didn’t know. This could’ve been what she’d wanted to say before, but he didn’t think so.  
  
“Scrooge,” she tried again. “I’m hurting you. I know that.”  
  
“I donnae want to talk about this anymore,” he said, shutting her down.  
  
“Wait,” she pleaded as he was about to stomp away and out of sight, leaving her to fend for herself.  
  
“I don’t have to wish for that.”  
  
“Oh? Then what would ye wish for? All the gold in the world and no one to share it with?”  
  
She balled her fists. “You’re not making this easy for me.”  
  
“I could say the same thing!”  
  
“I thought separating us would stop this,” she said. “But it doesn’t seem to matter. No matter what I do--Scroogie, I’m bored without you. Life’s not interesting unless you’re in it.”  
  
“And ye’d throw it away,” he scoffed, disgusted.  
  
“Would you listen to me and stop hearing what you want to hear?” she demanded.  
  
“And what makes ye think I’d want to hear this?” he countered.  
  
“I want to be with you,” she managed. “But, I can’t.”  
  
“Ye have made that abundantly clear,” he said flatly.  
  
Sighing, clearly wishing she could communicate better, she pulled him into a brief kiss. “I’m trying to spare you.”  
  
“I donnae want to be spared,” he growled. “I want ye.”  
  
Goldie ducked her head, an uncharacteristically shy reaction. Or perhaps they’d come too close to a stalactite.  
  
“I’m not good with words,” she managed after a minute. “Not when it counts.”  
  
He halted, staring at her in confusion.  
  
She swallowed, shaking her head. “Never mind. Let’s keep looking for the lamp.”  
  
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else she wasn’t telling him that she couldn’t entirely choke out, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what.


	7. Chapter 7

On the day of the ceremony, Lena was a bundle of nerves. She knew Dewey and Webby would recall her on a subconscious level. Otherwise, they’d never be able to Bond with her fully. However, she feared that forgetting her might penetrate deeper, or they might decide to leave her behind. Lena paced Webby’s room, and Webby grabbed her hands.  
  
“Hey,” she said gently. Lena stared at her. When they were younger, she’d believed Webby might have a growth spurt and catch up to her grandmother. It had never happened. Webby remained shorter than Lena, and Lena had to look down to catch her eye.  
  
“We’ll be okay,” Webby said and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss her. Lena hugged her tightly and kissed her back. As she did, she felt a trickle of doubt seep through again. It had nothing to do with Webby (or Dewey) this time.  
  
“You’re Lena de Spell,” the purple scaled girl had said before staring at her amulet. Would the charm even fit her when she transformed completely into a dragon? Or would it fall by the wayside so that Magica could exploit her niece’s newfound weakness? Lena broke off the kiss and discovered she was trembling.  
  
Unfortunately for Webby, Lena had grown adept in the last few days at keeping her from cottoning on to her more dangerous thoughts. Perhaps blocking out her wife wasn’t the smartest thing ever, but it kept Webby from catching glimpses of Lena’s true nature. There would be no blocking her out entirely once they were fully Bonded, however. To shut her out would be painful and pointless.   
  
“I can feel you walling me off, Lena,” Webby said in a warning tone, startling her. “And so can Dewey.”  
  
“I...I’m just practicing for when we’re separated,” Lena lied and then winced. The Bond called out every lie she spoke to her Bondeds. It demanded the truth, which was not something Lena was well-versed in all the time. Lying had been second nature to her, a defense mechanism to keep others at arm’s length. Her heart thudded, and she disliked the stern look Webby was giving her.  
  
“Nothing is going to happen,” Webby said. She cupped Lena’s cheek in her palm. “I promise.”  
  
“And Aunt Magica?” Lena said in a sharper tone than she’d intended. “Gladstone won’t bring her back to the manor, and now we can’t figure out where they went. That doesn’t sound at all suspicious to you?”  
  
“Okay, yeah, it does, a little,” Webby admitted. Dewey was off with his brothers, possibly celebrating his last few minutes of freedom of not being Bonded completely to Lena. Lena still didn’t get why he’d be attracted to her. Webby, she understood. Webby was light, life, and sanctuary. Lena was darkness, betrayal, and self-loathing. Lena was a terrible person, but no one would accept that.  
  
She’d almost lost track of the conversation as that all-too-familiar wave of self-hatred swept over her. It burned in the back of her throat and left her feeling weak and pathetic. Webby’s gaze sharpened, and all too late Lena realized she hadn’t wholly blocked her out. That had been a mistake.  
  
“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re a good person,” Webby whispered. “If you were evil, I couldn’t love you. I couldn’t share my soul with you and Dewey couldn’t either. We’re all part of each other, all soul pieces.”  
  
Webby brushed her lips against Lena’s. “I’ll always find you. I found you before, didn’t I? Even when you didn’t want to be found?”  
  
Lena grimaced. Yes, Webby had found her when she’d been holed up in her apartment and burning with fever. She’d hoped to die then, though she hadn’t admitted it. At least being dead would’ve put an end to Magica using her and Lena’s misery. But what would’ve happened to Dewey and Webby as a result?   
  
She hadn’t considered that before. If Bondeds weren’t linked completely and one of them died, the other wouldn’t go insane and/or die too, but they would always feel bereft. She’d be dooming Webby and Dewey to a life of shadows, incomplete and lonely. Lena smoothed Webby’s hair back from her face.  
  
“You’re a good person,” Webby repeated. “If you don’t trust yourself, at least trust me, okay?”  
  
“I’ll try,” Lena said. But in this, she knew Webby was wrong. Webby scoffed, tossing her head, and Lena’s heart thudded. She pulled Webby over to her bed; this would be the last time they would be together before the ceremony caused them to forget each other. If that was the case, then she wanted it to count for something.  
  
While it would be a pleasant interlude, it didn’t count for the official full Bonding. After speaking with Fenton and Calente at length, they had determined the best course of action would be for Webby and Lena to find each other as dragons, and then, once they had, they would be able to shift into humanoid form to consummate again. But only after they’d lost their memories and were reunited. If Lena clutched Webby tighter than usual and found herself more insecure than normal, Webby didn’t comment on it.   
  
When they finished, Webby was peppering her with kisses. Lena studied her wife, and her hands drifted down to her amulet, which she never took off, not even to shower. Webby’s gaze fell to it too, and she kissed her neck. She cupped Lena’s hands around the amulet.  
  
“Magica won’t interfere,” Webby said, and there was a warning in her tone. “She’d better not.”  
  
“Even if I’m not wearing the necklace?”   
  
“It’s sacred,” Webby insisted. Her eyes flashed. “If she comes anywhere near you, I’ll go for her throat.”  
  
“You’re cute, pink. Maybe you’re right.”  
  
“But you don’t believe me.”  
  
Webby was distracting her again, her hands drifting to places on Lena’s body that she couldn’t ignore.   
  
((Hey!)) Dewey objected. ((You’re having fun without me!))  
  
((Not my fault you chose to go off with your brothers,)) Lena teased and then gasped when Webby’s lips followed her hands. ((If you didn’t want to be left in the dark, maybe you should’ve stayed with us.))  
  
Dewey grumbled but didn’t reply. If Lena had had siblings, perhaps she would have understood better. After all, it wasn’t just them he’d be forgetting. He’d forget everything about his past, down to his name. He was platonic soulmates with his brothers. It’d be painful to lose them too, albeit temporarily. And that was as far as Lena was able to think before Webby kept her from thinking at all.  
  
This time, when they finished, Lena buried her face in the crook between Webby’s neck and shoulder. They were too tired for a third round, but that didn’t stop Webby’s wandering hands. Lena looked up, frowning.  
  
“Were your parents affectionate like this?” she asked, which stilled her wife. Wrong thing to say? Webby never spoke about her parents.  
  
“I don’t know,” Webby said, and though she didn’t pull away physically, Lena felt her withdraw emotionally. “I don’t remember them.”  
  
“Sorry,” Lena said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Webby said, though her shuttered expression and numbness in the Bond told a different story. “They died when I was very young. They were on a SHUSH mission, and it all went wrong. That was why Granny became Mr. McDragon’s bodyguard and why I’m living in McDragon Manor.”  
  
“If it helps, I don’t remember my mother. Or know who she is,” Lena offered.  
  
Webby shrugged. “It’s whatever.”  
  
She sat up. “Let’s go find Dewey and bug him before the ceremony.”  
  
Yes, she’d struck a nerve. Though Webby was behaving like usual, she could tell she’d poked around where she shouldn’t have. She knew more than she was letting on about her parents’ fate, but just as clearly, she had no intention of letting Lena in that far. It was the only area Lena could recall where Webby wouldn’t speak at length. She’d never known her to be close-lipped about anything; perhaps it was too painful.  
  
They dressed and headed out into the manor to search for the boys. As they did, Lena made a mental note to ask Mrs. Beakley about Webby’s parents. Then again, if Webby was withholding information, what were the chances that the stern British dragon lady trained in espionage would let anything slip? Still, it was worth a shot.  
  
That’d have to wait, however, until after the ceremony. Goosebumps rose on her skin. She didn’t buy Webby’s claim that the service was too sacred to interrupt. Something was afoot even if she couldn’t prove it.  
  
Webby was quiet as they approached the boys, and Lena’s heart clenched. Why had she thought it was appropriate to bring up her parents? Webby had never mentioned them in the entire time she’d known her. The boys never mentioned their father, if they knew who that was. It was like parents were a taboo subject.   
  
“Hey, Webs,” Dewey said. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Webby snapped, bristling. Huey and Louie looked up, one from checking the JWG and the other from his phone.  
  
“Oh, boy,” Louie said. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Nothing,” Webby snapped.  
  
“I might’ve asked her about her parents,” Lena admitted. “I didn’t think she’d take it this hard.”  
  
“Your parents?” Dewey replied, frowning. “You never told us about your parents, either.”  
  
“Well, no one told me it was against the rules to mention it!” Lena snapped.  
  
Webby hugged herself mentally, though her physical stance was more akin to fighting off enemies. It hurt to see her like that, to think Webby could conceive of her as an enemy. She was genuinely sorry she’d brought it up.  
  
“When I was three, my parents went on a SHUSH assignment and never came back. The FOWL agents went after me, tried to kidnap me, and Granny fought them off. They almost killed me when it was obvious she wouldn’t let me go,” Webby said. She spoke flatly, not looking at anyone. “There. That’s the whole story. Can we talk about the ceremony now?”  
  
Dewey and Lena exchanged uneasy glances. There was something else that might bite them in the ass later. How much of what Webby was had been wrapped up in what had befallen her parents? And how much of that would surface when she lost her memories?  
  
Maybe Lena’s fate wasn’t the only one she needed to worry about.   
  


* * *

  
  
Magica and Gladstone were lying low in Dragonburg in a place that Beakley and the others couldn’t find her. What she wanted to do was get Gladstone out of the way for her revenge and then bring him back in when she was done, but if she drugged him and knocked him out, he’d never Bond with her. He’d never trust her. And, to be honest, she’d never forgive herself for doing it. Hands trembling, she glanced over the Necronomicon again.   
  
She’d put Poe’s body in a box and brought it to the flat they were currently inhabiting on the outskirts of town. It was, ironically, a couple of buildings down from where Lena had holed herself up. Gladstone watched her as she flipped through the book and glanced from it to Poe’s body and back. She’d been able to preserve it to prevent any further decay, but it was difficult to look at, regardless. Seeing him in that state reminded her that it was her fault he’d been in it, to begin with, and if she wanted to place the blame where it belonged, it was squarely on her shoulders. Not Lena’s.   
  
She sighed. She’d failed him. It was her fault he’d ended up in that form, and her fault she hadn’t retrieved the items necessary for reviving him. Blaming Lena was easier than accepting the truth.  
  
Forcing her attention away from that, she concentrated on what she needed. She had Gladstone as a dragon power bank, but the spell required blood. All dark magic spells did. And as she was the spellcaster, it fell upon her to provide it. She wasn’t squeamish, although she noted Gladstone’s wince when she sliced her arm and let the blood pool atop Poe’s corpse.  
  
This had to be done carefully, precisely. Any step of the spell gone awry would lead to potentially deadly consequences. Plus, she was not looking forward to explaining to Gladstone why she had a zombie brother if this failed. She needed to get it right the first time since there might not be a second chance.  
  
Chanting the words to herself and leaning on Gladstone, all the while letting her blood pour over Poe’s body, she concentrated on restoring him to life. She sensed the magical pull in the universe that would bring him closer if his spirit hadn’t already passed on. If it had, she was shit out of luck.  
  
To her consternation, she sensed him lingering, but not nearby. No, she sensed him where her magical powers couldn’t reach. He was in McDragon Manor and presumably looking after Lena. She growled. He hadn’t stopped Magica from tormenting Lena while he was alive; why should he start caring now? Then again, she had no proof his mind hadn’t deteriorated as a bird, and now he had some semblance of self returned.  
  
“Magica?” Gladstone queried when Magica snarled, kicked the podium on which the Necronomicon was standing, and threw herself onto the couch. To add insult to injury, she was crying. Someone else had chosen Lena over her, and it was her own brother. She didn’t care that Webster or whatever her name had. No, what she cared about was that people were willing to risk themselves to be near Lena.   
  
Her name meant “light,” and Magica spat, scrubbing at her eyes.  
  
“He’s in McDragon Manor,” Magica said. “His spirit is still here, but as long as he’s following Lena, I can’t get to him.”  
  
She balled her fists. “After everything I’ve done for him.”  
  
Perhaps Gladstone’s luck also extended to not saying the wrong thing, because anyone else might have pointed out that she’d put Poe in this mess.  
  
“So what’s the next step?” he asked and pulled her into him. She resisted at first, more a token response than an actual desire to push him away, and sighed. Her eyes still burned with tears, and she hated herself for that weakness.  
  
“Plan B,” she said. “We need to figure out a way to entice Poe away from Lena. Or a way to put Lena in peril outside of the manor.”  
  
“You said you weren’t going to hurt her or Webby,” he reminded her.  
  
“Yes, yes, I won’t physically touch them,” she said dismissively, waving her hand.   
  
“You gave your niece a petit mal seizure without physically touching her,” he reminded her.   
  
“I won’t touch her,” she repeated. The Bond was threatening to call her out on the lie by omission, and she seethed. How was she supposed to keep anything to herself when she couldn’t lie about it? Still--where there’s a way, there’s a loophole.  
  
“I can make them think she’s in danger without hurting her,” Magica mused, scratching her chin like a villain.   
  
“All right…” Gladstone said, not happy with the compromise but probably afraid to override her. They both knew who wore the pants in that relationship (thought relationships tended to be more comfortable when pants weren’t worn at all). She smiled, already scheming on how to generate an illusion that Lena was in danger. And her new acolyte Violet would be very helpful.

* * *

  
  
There was a saying that when you found your Bonded, it was like the world burst into color after spending your entire life in black and white. Lena had felt that way when she’d laid eyes upon Webby. It was like all her life, she’d barely been alive, and then there was her. Lena couldn’t envision a world without her. And now...she was about to be cast back into the shadows, with only the sense of Webby and their magical link to guide her.  
  
The three of them stood, hands clasped, as Fenton and the minister read the final benediction prior to their transforming into dragons and being sent to disparate places in the U.S. Lena clutched Webby’s hand so tightly that she was sure that the girl was going to lose feeling in that hand. She was terrified that this would be the end of them. Webby and Dewey had total faith in the Bond seeing them through and their finding each other. It was a total Prince Charming and Snow White vibe.   
  
But Lena had always thought of herself as, if not the evil queen from that tale (that was more Magica’s area), at least someone who never saw her happy ending. Webby interlaced their fingers and beamed at Lena. Lena couldn’t smile back. Her heart pounded. She was going to lose her, wasn’t she?   
  
And Dewey too, albeit to a lesser extent. Part of her wanted to demand they keep things as they were, partially Bonded, because they might never find each other again. Of course, that was absurd. Bonded couples and rarely threesomes did this all the time and seldom failed to locate their significant others. But Lena wasn’t thinking logically.   
  
((We’re not going anywhere, Lena,)) Webby said softly into her mind. ((We’ll be apart, but we’ll find each other. I promise.))  
  
Lena fought the urge to yank her hand away from both of them and run away. The fear was a substantial weight in her chest now, and it grew stronger and more cumbersome the longer the minister and Fenton spoke. She was shaking with it.  
  
((Lena, we’ll be okay,)) Dewey said. ((I promise I’ll find you and Webby.))  
  
They finished, but Lena could no longer hear them over the ringing in her ears. She turned to look at her husband and wife, and they stared back at her. There was a moment where it felt like everything was falling into place, and the final brick laid into the wall when there was an explosion of sound and white eclipsed her vision. The hands holding hers were gone, and Lena faded...falling...falling…  
  
And the abyss threatened to swallow her whole.  
  


* * *

  
  
As they headed deeper into the cavern, Scrooge’s temper eased somewhat. Goldie’s uncharacteristic silence was mellowing him out, even while he fretted over it. Their conversation felt unfinished, and he wasn’t sure how to bridge that gap. Then again, he’d never quite knew how to handle himself around her. Sometimes, it felt like every step he took was the wrong one.  
  
Goldie grabbed him by the sleeve before he wandered too far off. He glanced down to spy a sharp precipice and gulped.  
  
“Er, thanks,” he said awkwardly.  
  
“Wouldn’t want you killing yourself before I rid myself of the Bond,” Goldie said, and he scoffed, his mellowness evaporating as it had never been.  
  
“Of course not,” he muttered. “Heaven forbid you give a damn about anyone but yerself and yer share of the loot.”  
  
Though she’d steered him away from the sharp drop-off, her hand remained on his sleeve. He had a sense of time running away from them, and perhaps she shared in it because when he moved forward, she yanked him back again. He could feel her heartbeat flutter against his wrist.  
  
“Scroogie,” she said, and her expression was pained. “I didn’t mean what I said before.”  
  
“What?” he snapped. “That ye want to be rid of the Bond? That ye want to be rid of me? In that case, I donnae believe ye. You’ve never wanted attachments, and I’m one of them.”  
  
She shuddered. “You sure know how to make this hard on a girl.”  
  
He tore his sleeve away from her grasp. “Let’s just get this over with.”  
  
He managed a few paces further before Goldie snapped, “No. No, we’re not done here.”  
  
“So, what? You want to hammer the point home?” he snapped.   
  
Goldie cringed. “Fuck. I don’t know how to say this.”  
  
Scrooge’s eyebrows rose. It was unusual for her to slip her lady-like tendencies, such as they were, to curse. He wondered what she had in mind that was so difficult to push out. She had his attention.  
  
“Ye? At a loss for words? Curse me kilts, when is that a thing?”  
  
She grabbed him and kissed him hard. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting at, though, and she’d always been more proficient at expressing herself through physical affection than saying it aloud. He kissed her back and had a sudden thought of what it’d feel like to bed down in a cave with her. The way she was kissing him, her fingers curling in what remained of his hair, made him think she had the same idea.  
  
She stepped back before he had a chance to recover his breath and shook her head, her blonde ponytail flying. “Okay, let’s try this again.”  
  
“Try what again?” He was growing suspicious, sensing the kiss had been a diversion.  
  
She bit the inside of her cheek in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. “All of these decades and I still can’t choke it out. Ridiculous.”  
  
She shook her head at herself. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”  
  
“No,” he said, his voice weak but gaining strength as he continued. “Ye won’t. Ye’ll tell me now.”  
  
“There’ll be a chance later before I wish the Bond away,” she said.   
  
He nearly dropped the flashlight he was holding. Pain shot through his heart, though he’d anticipated those words for a while. For that matter, he could have sworn she’d said something similar earlier. That was what he got for not paying enough attention to her.  
  
“Never mind,” he snapped. “Let’s go.”  
  
She hesitated, uncertain, and pulled him toward her again for a kiss. He refused her, not in the mood for a fling again, even if the lower portion of his body disagreed. He could think with other parts of his body, thank you very much.  
  
They walked for another half an hour and then an hour in perfect silence. He was bristling, recalling all of the past times she’d pushed him away or betrayed him. He didn’t know why he’d gone on this trip with her. As much as he loved her, she infuriated him. His blood pressure was better when he wasn’t dealing with her regularly. She was never going to change. She was “Glittering” Goldie O’Gilt, and she loved gold, not him. That was never going to change either. Might as well wish for the sun to stop shining or the tides to stop.   
  
Beside him, her fists were balled. She stopped herself from reaching for him again, and he saw the pain of that decision in her face. If he weren’t so angry with her, he might pity her. She’d brought this on herself. If she didn’t like the consequences of her decisions, then perhaps she ought to stop making them.  
  
“Scroogie,” she said as they chose a narrow tunnel that steeped downward at a sharp angle. “Maybe there’s another way.”  
  
“Another way to what?”  
  
His throat was tight. “To betray me?”  
  
“Maybe we don’t have to Bond. Maybe we don’t have to marry. Why complicate a good thing?”  
  
“Because the instability is driving me insane! And it’s driving you insane too! Donnae pretend otherwise!”  
  
“I’ve been able to resist it for years. Not well, but I have.”  
  
“Because ye’d rather chase yer fortune than be with me,” he spat.  
  
“Because—“ she stopped, her throat seeming to constrict. Words seemed to fail her, and he didn’t care. Fuming, he continued to stomp forward. A light shone ahead of them from no discernible source. Again, the sense of time running out hit them, and his heart pounded between his ribs.  
  
“Ye could do both if ye weren’t so damn stubborn,” he snapped. “If ye cared a little more about me and less about yerself.”  
  
Goldie swallowed hard. She cupped his cheek in her palm. “The reason I haven’t is that I care about you. Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  
  
“And that’s why ye betrayed me countless times,” he said flatly. “Because ye were concerned for my safety.”  
  
“Because who knows what would happen if I stayed with you? We might not be a good match, Scroogie.”  
  
“If that were the case, we wouldnae be partially Bonded already,” he pointed out, incensed. “Ye’re just afraid of commitment.”  
  
“And you’re not?” She scoffed. “Mister Big Bucks Dragon. ‘No one can stop me because I’m Scrooge McDragon. Smarter than the smarties and tougher than the toughies.’ Full of bull, more like.”  
  
“I am not!”   
  
“Admit it. If you could get rid of this love-hate thing between us, you would,” she said. “You don’t like being saddled down any more than I do.”  
  
He sighed, aggravated. “Ye’re the only woman I’ve ever met that I’d willingly saddle meself with.”  
  
“Thank you...I think. My point still stands. We’re better as we are. Or less than that.”  
  
“I want to be fully Bonded with you,” he snapped. “I donnae think you’re even listening. Ye hear what ye want to hear.”  
  
“You don’t want me. You want the idea of me.”  
  
“I...are ye daft, woman? I’m here because I want to be with ye. Ye’re the one acting like it’s a death sentence.”  
  
He huffed, readying himself to move forward again, toward the strange glowing yellow light.   
  
“Isn’t it? Isn’t marriage the death of a way of life?”  
  
He shook his head. “Ye’ll never Bond with me. Ye’ll wish this away. We donnae have the same opinions at all. I’m done with this conversation. You made it painfully clear ye donnae want me.”  
  
With that, he stormed off again. She grabbed his hand. Up ahead, they could see a lamp, resembling a genie lamp of old, atop a pedestal in a small room.   
  
“Before we touch that, set off booby traps, and then go our separate ways,” she said. “I have to get this out.”  
  
He scoffed, trying to pull his hand away, but she had an iron grip.   
  
“I love you,” she said. “And I don’t want you to be saddled with me. And don’t worry—one of my wishes will be for you to forget this conversation ever happened.”  
  
Scrooge was at a complete loss. Goldie smiled sadly and released his hand. Then, stepping forward, she headed for the lamp.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual notes now. I threw everything but the kitchen sink at our favorite trio. Scrooge, Goldie, and Magica do not actually appear in this chapter--it was getting long enough as it was. Also, I know Doofus is Louie’s enemy, not Dewey’s, but Doofus is planning on using Dewey as bait for Llewellyn. (And :P sorry, Louie, I like that name).

It was cold, and Lena wrapped her tail about her body. Overhead, the stars shone brightly, brighter than she’d recalled seeing before. She had flown into the mountains because although the warmth was alluring, she wanted to be alone. Plus, it was easier to hide when she slept in a cave. She could kill her dinner, drag it back up with her, and eat in solitude.  
  
She didn’t remember living any other way. Her neck felt oddly bare, but like everything else that evaded her mental grasp, she didn’t worry about it too much. She knew she didn’t belong here, but as to where she did belong, she couldn’t say. She had the vague sense of missing someone terribly and saw a girl cartwheeling in her mind, but the image faded before she could focus on the particulars.  
  
She was pink, and the boy partnered with her was blue. That was all Lena knew. If she hadn’t awoken at the base of the mountains with her name, she wouldn’t be able to recall that either. Lena de Spell. Whatever a de Spell was. It felt cursed, and she shuddered, curling up deeper into the cave. She couldn’t breathe fire to warm herself. When she tried, she blew a gentle breeze through her nostrils. So her element wasn’t fire. Bully for her.  
  
She knew she was missing part of herself and that she ought to look for it. Unfortunately, a crushing depression had seized her, and every time she considered leaving the area, she sank back down. Moving was too tricky. It required more momentum and energy than she had. She ought to be eager to find her two soul pieces if that was what she was missing. But she couldn’t help but feel that they might be happier without her.  
  
It must’ve been a bone-deep conviction she’d held to carry over despite not recalling why she felt that way. She remembered pink, blue, and her own worthless purple. Lena sighed, shaking her head at herself. Maybe finding them would be the key to unlocking her memories. However, perhaps it’d be better if they found her first. For all she knew, they weren’t even looking for her. Maybe she’d find them, and it’d turn out they didn’t want her after all.  
  
That was the root of why she hadn’t vacated her “home.” She was terrified she wasn’t wanted. Sometimes, when she slept, she heard echoes of memories and a cruel woman tormenting her. Her head would feel like someone had struck it like a gong, and she’d cry out only for the sound to repeat strangely. When she awoke, she’d be in tears for no discernible reason. She hated sleeping as a result. There were always nightmares.  
  
She always waited until she was exhausted before attempting to sleep in the hopes that she’d nip the nightmares in the bud. This time, as she descended into sleep, a name floated before her. She could hear herself crying it and the urgency with which she said it gave Lena pause. Was this the girl that meant so much to her? Was that why she felt connected to her?  
  
 _“Webby!”_  
  
As much as she’d tried to evade the nightmares, they sprung up. She had a sudden vision of a larger dragon tearing at a smaller pink dragon, and the terror that it induced woke her immediately. Webby. Lena straightened, ready to go to Webby’s aid, except that had happened a while ago. What little she recalled was disjointed. If Webby were in danger, then it had long since passed. There was nothing Lena could do anyway.  
  
What good was producing wind? She supposed she could blow someone away if she concentrated, but it was like the mental block in her mind. It felt like the only way to truly access her powers would be if she erased the block and found her soul pieces. Webby.  
  
Dewey? She shook her head at herself. It sounded right, but what did it matter? She didn’t know how long she’d been here, but neither of them was coming for her.  
  
She’d been alone most of her life. She remembered that much. Pain and isolation were what she recalled of her prior existence, and she wasn’t keen to revisit it. Maybe it was best for her to be here, out of reach from predators. No one could hurt her if they couldn’t find her.  
  
She shuddered, her longing for companionship so intense that it verged on excruciating. She remembered arms about her now, but not the face or the voice. Her soul pieces had loved her, hadn’t they? But why should they, when they were better suited for each other and not her?  
  
Movement at the front of the cave caught her attention and halted her brooding. Lena rose, tail flicking back and forth like a cat about to pounce. A purple dragon with iridescent scales was pacing before her cave, and something about her seemed familiar and threatening. She had in her mouth a purple amulet, and Lena’s blood ran cold. She recognized both the female dragon and the charm.  
  
“What...what are you doing?” Lena demanded. “That’s  _my_  amulet.”  
  
The girl spat it out and then, casually, crushed it beneath her foot. There was a strange glow eclipsing her, making Lena wonder briefly whether the girl’s actions were her own or if someone was dictating them. With the amulet’s destruction, however, her stomach clenched, and it felt like a weight had dropped. Her food was like lead in her belly, and bile burned the back of her throat. Whatever this portended, it was nothing good.  
  
“Lena de Spell. The little blood traitor,” the girl said, only it wasn’t her voice emanating from the smaller dragon, but an older woman Lena knew all too well. Lena’s eyes widened, and panic thrummed through her. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have found her. She didn’t remember much of what that voice meant, only that it promised agony.  
  
“Don’t you remember me, dumb, dumb little Lena?” the other dragon crooned. “Your loving Aunt Magica is hurt that you don’t.”  
  
She laughed. “Oh, but then, you don’t remember anything, do you?”  
  
Pain exploded in the back of her head, and spots covered her vision. It drove her to her knees, and she keened, reaching out toward her soul pieces without even thinking about it.  _Dewey...Webby…_  
  
She had to fight this. Forcing herself to stand, she gritted her teeth against the white-hot agony pouring through her mind. This could kill her; Magica could very well kill her. Lena summoned the magic that she could drag through that block, and a barrier arose between her and the violet dragon. If the girl was the channel, then Lena was going to keep her back.  
  
There were ley lines beneath the mountains here. It must’ve been why she’d been drawn to this cave. Lena dug deep, talons tearing at the stone beneath her feet, and roared. She pushed the girl back as best she could. The girl’s eyes cleared for a second.  
  
“What...what am I doing? How did I get here?” she queried. Her eyes widened. “You. You’re Lena de Spell.”  
  
Lena couldn’t reply. It was taking all of her power to force the girl to cease her magical attack. Thankfully, as the girl seemed to come to her senses, it abated. Lena breathed slightly easier, not deluded enough to think that the fight was over. Magica would recover soon enough.  
  
And when she did, then the real problems would arise.  
  
“I’m Violet Sabrewing,” Violet said quietly. She glanced down at the amulet. “I’m sorry about that.”  
  
Lena shook her head. Echoing pain bounced around her head, and she gritted her teeth. Violet approached, and Lena growled, low and threatening, her tail swishing around before her. Her eyes flashed draconic gold, and she dug her claws deeper into the cave floor.  
  
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Lena spat.  
  
Violet frowned, looking wrong-footed. “I...I’m sorry. I did not mean to crush it. I’m afraid I’ve run afoul of someone.”  
  
Magica had probably wiped her memory of their meeting, but Lena didn’t care about that. How had Violet found her so quickly when her so-called Bondeds hadn’t? Or was she right? Had they forsaken her for each other? The drumming in her head was nothing compared to the laceration in her heart. It felt like someone had plunged a knife into her chest, and she fought the urge to keen. She shook her head again.  
  
“Maybe I can help you,” Violet suggested. “I could help you return to Dragonburg.”  
  
“Not. Interested.”  
  
Violet sniffed, and her eyes widened. “Pheromones. I can smell them on you. That means you’re part of an incomplete Bond. Fascinating.”  
  
Lena bulled her way past her and snarled in her face. “Fuck. Off.”  
  
“There’s no need to be quite so rude about it,” Violet said. She seemed off-put. “Pardon my intrusion, but you seem to be rather lonely.”  
  
If her heart and her head hadn’t both been aching, she might’ve knocked Violet off a cliff. She certainly wasn’t about to confide in someone associated with Aunt Magica. A strange presence flitted in front of her, ephemeral, and Violet and Lena blinked, staring. It’d only been visible for a second, but when Lena had thought about Magica, it’d materialized.  
  
“Lena.”  
  
It was a male voice, and she didn’t recognize it. Perhaps she was imagining things after the mental attack. She found her anger had ebbed away, and she shrugged at the other dragon. Though she was only a year or so younger than Lena, she was far smaller, and now that Lena looked closer, one of her horns was twisted and broken. Against her better nature, pity arose.  
  
“You might as well come in,” Lena tossed over her shoulder.  
  
“Have you reached the part of the Bonding ritual where you’ve recalled your Bondeds’ names? And ascertained their whereabouts?” Violet queried.  
  
She still wasn’t about to divulge her innermost secrets to a stranger. Violet craned her neck to see the drawings Lena had carved into the wall.  
  
“Did you do those? They’re quite good,” Violet said. “Are they your Bondeds?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Lena admitted.  
  
“I’m not supposed to interfere with the ritual,” Violet said, sounding like she was about to do just that. “However…”  
  
“Don’t,” Lena said and rested, placing her head on her front feet. She supposed in another form that they’d be her arms. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten about me.”  
  
“How could they?” Violet inquired. “You’re meant to be with them, aren’t you?”  
  
“You’re right,” Lena said suddenly, curtly. “You’re not supposed to interfere in the ritual. You can stay here tonight because it’s cold outside, but when it’s morning, I want you out.”  
  
“Why aren’t you looking for them?”  
  
“Why are you so nosy?” Lena spat.  
  
“I have only observed Bonding rituals and read about them in books,” Violet confessed. “I find them quite intriguing.”  
  
“I’m not a scientific curiosity!”  
  
“I didn’t say that you were. But it’s customary to search out your Bondeds after a separation and for you to meet in a mutually advantageous location, one that would be conducive to procreation.”  
  
When Violet put it like that, it sounded disgusting. “They’re not looking for me. Why should I look for them?”  
  
“How do you know they’re not?”  
  
Lena’s tail thumped hard against the floor. “Because I know, okay? Now shut up and go to sleep.”  
  
“It’s entirely possible that you are letting your fears override your magical sense of them.”  
  
“Do you not know when to shut up? Do you need help?” she snapped.  
  
Violet huffed. “I am simply trying to help you after inadvertently leaving you prey to an evil force. You could be more polite about it. And you are actively pushing them away with your attitude.”  
  
“Maybe,” Lena snapped back. Or maybe they had never wanted her in the first place. With that thought firmly implanted in her mind, the doubts cascaded in. Webby and Dewey weren’t looking for her. They couldn’t be. After all, why should they? What could she possibly offer them?  
  


* * *

  
  
Webby landed in the fields of what she thought might be Nebraska. She could feel the compulsion toward the mountains, as well as a hot summer breeze that might be closer to the coast. What she ought to do was follow the mountains first--she didn’t know why--- only that their connection seemed more tenebrous than it ought to be; like someone had occluded it. She remembered her Bondeds’ names--Dewey and Lena.  
  
Yet she remained angry about something she couldn’t define, and that had prevented her from pursuing either of them. She felt abandoned, not necessarily by her Bondeds, but by her family. She couldn’t recall them, and her anger had no logical root. That bothered her, as well as trying to figure out why she was so focused on what her parents must have done.  
  
She knew it was her parents. She’d spent hours ruminating on it to come to that conclusion. Unfortunately, everything was murky. It had to do with her parents and Lena, but not necessarily in that order. She ground her teeth and growled, tail thumping on the ground.  
  
The worst part was she couldn’t remember what seemed so imperative. It was driving her mad. Bonding with one of her Bondeds ought to restore her memories, and she knew she ought to pursue them. The odd sense of danger radiated from the idea of a full Bonding, however. Like she knew of a couple that had done so and then perished because of it; because one of them had died, and the other had gone soon after.  
  
So perhaps she was afraid of losing herself. Maybe she was letting the fear speak for her instead of reacting the way she ought to. She was Webbigail Vanderroar. She ought to know what she was doing. After all, she usually did.  
  
It was just...her parents. They were a sticking point in her mind and try as she might, she couldn’t dislodge them.  
  
When she felt echoing pain in her mind from another soul piece, she knew without needing to be told that it was Lena. She sprang to her feet. No matter how she felt about her parents, she would never abandon a friend or loved one, particularly not to someone’s cruel whims. In the back of her mind, though, she faltered.  
  
She always put everyone else first; their needs always superseded hers. If Lena was in danger, then she needed to find her. Lena would do the same for her, wouldn’t she? Webby couldn’t recall, but she assumed so if the Bond held true. Maybe it was time she stopped holding things back for fear of upsetting other people.  
  
However, she needed to deal with one problem at a time. There was always a possibility she would arrive too late to help Lena, but that didn’t mean she was going to sit here and wait for the outcome. Getting up to a running leap, she flung herself into the air.  
  
Flying was amazing, especially without her grandmother drilling her. The wind rushed past her face and buoyed her. She knew it was magic that permitted her to fly; otherwise, physics would’ve had a field day. As she flew, she followed her sense of where Lena was and reached out toward her soul piece as Lena had reached out to her and Dewey.  
  
Lena didn’t reach back, but Webby didn’t hold that against her. After all, she was under assault; she couldn’t precisely stop what she was doing and acknowledge her. Had Dewey noticed? How could he not? She fought a whimper. She didn’t remember the last time she’d been without him, but then again, she didn’t remember much of her past.  
  
She felt alone, and she hated being lonely. Growing up, isolated as she’d been in the manor, it felt like she’d spent her whole life preparing for the possibility of battle, not friends or lovers. Without Dewey and Lena, it felt like that again. Like she was being punished for something someone else had done.  
  
The sensation of attack ceased, and Webby breathed easier. By now, she’d flown a few miles, and she debated whether she ought to continue to her destination. Could Lena handle herself by now? These places must’ve been chosen with care in case a magical showdown commenced, and they needed to protect themselves. The whole point of the Bonding ceremony was to locate one’s Bonded and fully consummate the relationship. By all rights, she ought to proceed to Lena. Lena might still need her.  
  
But it wasn’t immediate.  
  
Her true nature wasn’t to dither in inaction. She scowled at herself. If Lena needed her, then she needed her, and she’d be there as soon as she was able.  
  
That she’d even considered for a moment abandoning her was abhorrent. Webby was disgusted with herself. Was it because she didn’t remember everything? Or was there another reason? What was wrong with her? She knew she loved Lena, even if she couldn’t recall much about her. Lena was part of her.  
  
Her tail whipped through the air like a rudder. She had a sudden image of Magica de Spell without a tail, and she grinned. While she didn’t remember what had led up to that confrontation or anything other than the mental image, it was enough to amuse her. The bitch had had it coming.  
  
((Lena?)) Webby ventured. They still had telepathy; it wasn’t like they were starting from square one here. ((Lena, are you okay?))  
  
Lena didn’t respond, and Webby’s alarm increased. Had Lena forgotten how to reply? Had her aunt attacked her? She couldn’t tell much beyond vague sensations, and even those hadn’t resolved into concrete feelings. Webby shuddered, cold within.  
  
((Hold on, my beautiful angel. I’m coming.))  
  


* * *

  
  
Dewey was glad he hadn’t crash-landed in the jungles, but being by himself was enough to stoke his apprehension. He didn’t want to be here. It reminded him of his mom being shipwrecked, and he missed Webby and Lena. He recalled his brothers, albeit barely, and he couldn’t reach them with triplet telepathy as he might’ve under other circumstances. Huey would’ve known what to do, though, and Louie would’ve helped him plan it out. Dewey was just the headstrong adventurer who rushed into things without thinking.  
  
Webby would’ve known what to do too. Webby. He couldn’t feel anything from her, much less Lena. He’d been here for a day or two and spent most of it hunting down food and trying not to panic. He wasn’t doing well on the second count. It wasn’t that he feared no one was coming for him, but that he feared he wouldn’t be able to find them once he set out.  
  
The fear was paralyzing. He knew they wouldn’t reject him; the surety of being from a loving family had eradicated the fear of rejection. However, being trapped and no one knowing where he was or how to rescue him was deeply embedded in him. It had happened to his mother, albeit not on a Bonding flight. He didn’t remember the exact circumstances, but he didn’t want history to repeat. Shudders wracked him. He couldn’t be like his mom. He didn’t know how his mom had survived, but he wasn’t as strong as Della Dragon.  
  
When the clarion call in his mind rang, he knew where Lena was with certainty. It didn’t resolve where Webby was, only that she was heading for Lena’s distress signal. Dewey threw himself into the air and crashed a second later. Unlike Webby, he didn’t have practice flying. Until the ceremony, he’d never transformed into his dragon form. He’d done it just once when he was younger and frightened Uncle Donald half to death. He felt the memory as a disconnected thing like it had happened to someone else in another lifetime.  
  
((Webby? What’s going on?)) he sent since he figured she was more in the know than he was. Webby didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure she’d gotten the message.  
  
Shit. What if he was like his mom, and none of his messages got through? What if people spent all of this time searching for him and couldn’t find him because they were too stupid to look closer? His terror strummed within him, and he whined. He sent out feelers toward his brothers also, though they had no part in this, and he was pretty sure they were temporarily blocked off from him.  
  
 _Tell me I’m not alone. Tell me anything, just don’t let me be by myself._  
  
Putting on a spurt of speed, he dashed back into the air and sensed Lena reaching out for him and Webby. He reached back but didn’t sense her notice that either. Shit. Great, now he was scared for both himself and Lena.  
  
Lena would have to hold on. He knew Webby was coming for her. He was too, as soon as he could get himself in gear and not crash into the ground like he was about to now. Was he magnetically attracted to the ground? Was this what had happened to his mom? His stomach lurched.  
  
Man, it was so rough to do something without his brothers to buoy him. He didn’t realize how much he’d depended on them until they were no longer an option.  
  
He shuddered again, finding himself losing altitude. At this rate, Webby would arrive before he did. That might be preferable, too, but he didn’t feel like faceplanting into the soil again. Once had been quite enough, thank you very much.  
  
Soaring high above the clouds, he saw the distant mountains in his mind, where Lena must’ve been. The immediacy was fading, but his concern didn’t. Why couldn’t the others hear him? He roared in frustration. Someone had to be out there, friend or foe. Someone had to be waiting for him.  
  
He was worrying over nothing. That was it. He was driving himself crazy for no reason.  
  
Pushing himself harder, he shivered at the cold wind. His element was water, as he had discovered earlier. Webby’s was probably fire and Lena’s air. He smiled at that. Webby could blaze brightly, as she did in his mind. He pushed aside the pang that arose thinking of how his messages weren’t getting through.  
  
A massive white dragon materialized before him, and Dewey crashed into him. It wasn’t on purpose—he hadn’t learned how to control his flight. The two tumbled end over end into the air until the white dragon flung Dewey off him. The dragon struck Dewey as familiar, but it took him a few minutes to place him.  
  
“Doofus?” In another universe, they might’ve been friends. Before, you know, Doofus had gone insane with money and power. And then kidnapped his brother.  
  
“Not the brother I wanted, but I’ll take you to add to my collection,” Doofus said. Considering his girth, Dewey was surprised that the dragon could take flight at all. He looked like a land-bound dragon. Some other magic must be at work to permit him to fly.  
  
“Wait,” Dewey implored. “I’m in the middle of a Bonding ceremony. You can’t just barge in here and take me away.”  
  
Doofus grinned, showing sharp fangs. “You don’t say? There are ways of fixing that.”  
  
Dewey went cold inside. “What do you mean?”  
  
He flapped frantically; he had an awkward time hovering, which Doofus maintained with ease. Doofus looked more adept in the air than he had on land.  
  
“I know someone who’s working on eradicating the Bond entirely,” Doofus said with a smirk. “But that’s not the point. You’re mine now.”  
  
Dewey blew a blast of water into Doofus’s face. Considering the altitude, it transformed immediately to ice, and Doofus knocked it aside. He spat venom in Dewey’s face, and Dewey flung his tail up to block it. The acid ate through his tail, and he screamed. Stupid idea. Idiotic idea. He should’ve tried to dodge. Fuck.  
  
Doofus snorted. With the acid crawling up his tail, he was losing height fast. The ground was rushing up to meet him, and he reached out for Lena and Webby again. And then, knowing it would do no good, he reached for his brothers. They didn’t respond. No one had his back. Dewey pushed back up, aware his center of balance was off now that his tail was injured, but at least it had stopped breaking off. Doofus’s venom had taken a good foot off his tail.  
  
Webby was the fighter, but like hell, Dewey was going to let Doofus get away with this. He barreled into the other dragon’s chest and spat water into Doofus’s eyes at point-blank range. The water froze, and Doofus’s venom made it ineffective. Dewey’s heart pounded. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose. The stakes were too high for that.  
  
Doofus clapped a metal around Dewey’s right foreleg, the same bracelet he’d put on Louie, and Dewey plummeted. Nothing he tried would allow him to fly, and he screamed in his link to the two girls and then to his brothers again.  
  
((DEWEY!)) Huey screamed. Oh, good, he could talk to his brothers. He wasn’t sure that was a thing.  
  
The ground rushed up to meet him, and he crashed hard. Before he passed out, he felt Huey, Louie, Webby, and Lena reaching back.

* * *

  
  
Lena felt it the moment Dewey crashed. She’d been fighting sleep because she didn’t trust Violet enough. Pain ricocheted through her head again, and her tail was burning. She had to shift her head and double-check that her tail hadn’t been eaten by the venom. Knowing that it hadn’t wasn’t reassuring. She was so tired from not having slept well, but she couldn’t let Dewey suffer. She didn’t know who his attacker was, but he meant business.  
  
“What is it?” Violet asked, groggy.  
  
Lena scanned herself. She had no injuries, despite her mind screaming evidence to the contrary. She backed up, took a running leap, and dashed off to Dewey’s side. She was done feeling sorry for herself and worrying that no one was coming. Dewey had been about to pursue her before this had happened. Moreover, Webby had been heading her way too. She sensed both of them.  
  
And this was a much more severe threat than what she’d faced before.  
  
Unfortunately, Violet was still tailing her. Argh. She’d deal with her later. Lena’s tail whipped angrily through the air. If Aunt Magica attacked her now, she’d kill her herself. Now was not the time for her petty jealousies and revenge schemes.  
  
Of course, that would probably mean to Magica that it was a perfect time. Lena spat to the side. Man, she hated her biological family.  
  
“Why are you following me?” Lena snarled.  
  
“I am trying to make amends,” Violet retorted. “This would be easier if you slowed down.”  
  
“Or if you sped up!” Lena countered. “Whatever. If you can keep up, then keep up. If you can’t, then it’s not my problem.”  
  
Violet groused, and Lena chose to tune her out rather than listen to what might end up being her aunt’s diatribe. Dewey had gone down somewhere near the coast; she’d need to be closer to pinpoint it. Her throat was tight. Dewey had known his assailant and Webby might, though Lena was woefully out of the loop. She was sure when they fully Bonded their memories would return and be linked together. That was contingent on them being able to fully Bond, which might be an issue.  
  
((Dewey?)) she queried, but there was no response. Her stomach clenched.  _Please be okay; please be okay...please don’t let this somehow be my fault…_  
  
((Lena?))  
  
((Webby!))  
  
((I think we were blocking each other out before,)) Webby admitted. A wave of magic swept through Lena, and she whirled, spying Violet glowing with Magica’s magical signature. Yeah, Magica had as awful timing as Lena had suspected she did.  
  
((Hang on. I’ve got a problem,)) Lena said just before Violet blasted her with fire. Of course, the element Lena had wanted.  
  
((There is another option…)) Magica whispered into Lena’s mind, and the sudden intrusion was so violent and unwanted that Lena almost crashed herself. ((You are a shadow dragon. The wind is just your supplemental power...give in to it, Lena…))  
  
She sneered. ((Or are you as weak as I always thought you were?))  
  
No time to worry about how easily Magica had gained access to Lena’s thoughts. Judging by the mental shudder she felt from Webby, she’d heard her too. She could practically hear Webby extolling her not to do whatever it was Magica had told her. Unfortunately, Lena could see her options winnowing down to nothing. She had no choice. She reached for the shadow powers if only to obfuscate Violet’s vision.  
  
It blacked out hers too. Lena yelped. This was what she got for messing with the shadow realm. Lena blinked furiously to clear her vision, just in time for Violet to launch an attack. On the plus side, she knew this wasn’t Violet’s doing. On the other, she was vexed that Magica had possessed the younger dragon so easily.  
  
((Lena, what is it?)) Webby pressed.;  
  
((Kinda busy right now, pink.))  
  
There was too much happening at once. How could she focus on her fight when Dewey’s pain stretched out to her, Violet was attacking her, and Webby was needling her with questions? She blocked everyone out, knowing that it was against what the Bond stood for, but also knowing that if she didn’t, she’d probably crash too. Her tail lashed, and she propelled herself through what remained of the shadows onto Violet. If she had to knock sense into the hard way, then she’d do that. No matter what it took.  
  
She wouldn’t kill her. Unfortunately, Lena knew there were many ways to get someone to stop without killing them first.

* * *

  
  
Webby yelped when Lena blocked her out. She was trying not to panic. She couldn’t feel Dewey’s consciousness, only his injuries, and now she could feel Lena’s struggles, but they were significantly blunted. She wavered back and forth, torn with indecision. If she’d had one Bonded, this wouldn’t have been an issue.  
  
She remembered now what her grandmother had warned her about when it came to adventuring alone--that it was too dangerous. It was how her parents had been killed. A strange trilling noise filled her ears, and she cocked her head, trying to narrow down the source.  
  
Her heart clenched painfully as a figure rose into the clouds before her. The female dragon had a sharp, elongated snout, brown glittering scales, and a red underbelly. She also had a mechanical left foreleg. Webby didn’t know her real name, but she didn’t need to.  
  
It was Black Heron.


	9. Chapter 9

Magica had waited until Gladstone was asleep before reaching for her niece’s mind to warp it one last time. She intended to bring her down, and the sooner, the better. If she couldn’t kill her directly, then she would scramble her mind and leave her debilitated, beyond what the Bond could repair. Yes, the Bond could improve many things, but it couldn’t fix a permanent disability. And Magica intended to leave Lena mentally crippled.

 

It wasn’t until she was deep within her niece’s mind that she sensed a presence near her. Magica had curled up on a plush armchair and was oblivious to her surroundings while she worked her magic. Gladstone cleared his throat and, startled, she released her hold on Lena. She could feel Lena struggling to remedy the situation, could feel the Bond pushing back against her intrusion, and gritted her teeth. 

 

The Bond did not appreciate her attempts to keep it at bay. The Bond was like a living thing, standing in her way and keeping her from hurting Lena. Gladstone cleared his throat again, and she looked up at him. He was wearing a green terry-cloth bathrobe, and his usually carefree, calm expression was furious. His eyes narrowed, and she could feel his rage beating at her.

 

“You lied to me,” he accused. “You swore you wouldn’t interfere again. You _promised_ me, Magica de Spell.”

 

Magica faltered. She’d never seen him so angry. “I...I can explain it.”

 

“No,” he said flatly. “You can’t. You’ll give the same excuses you gave before. I thought, when you decided to be my mate, that you’d finally abandoned thoughts of revenge. Now I see you were only waiting until my back was turned.”

 

“How am I supposed to let her get away with killing Poe?” she snapped, jumping to her feet. “And her open rebellion for years? How am I supposed to ‘forgive and forget’ what she’s done?”

 

“She was a child. You were manipulating a _child_ ,” he retorted.

 

“A child who should’ve known better!” she countered.

 

“I can’t go through with this,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “Unk is upset with me as it is. I promised him you’d be on your best behavior and leave the poor girl alone. You lied to me. How do I know you’re not lying about everything else? You tried to manipulate me too.”

 

“The Bond won’t let me manipulate you or lie to you.” She balled her fists. “One more attempt, and I’ll leave her alone. I’ll finish what I’ve started, and it’ll be over.”

 

“No,” he said. “It’ll never be over, not for you. You’ll have your revenge against Lena, but then you’ll go after Webbigail. Or Uncle Scrooge. Or someone else. The cycle of vengeance never ends.”

 

“Then help me,” she said. “You chose me, didn’t you? You can’t throw all of this at my feet. You knew what I was like before we started the consummation. You knew this could happen. Why haven’t you done more to steer me away from this path?”

 

As if he could. However, by placing the burden at his feet instead of hers, she avoided taking responsibility for her actions. She wasn’t sure if her gambit would work. Would Gladstone fall for it or see right through it? She could feel her heart pounding. Lena was pushing against her, too, and she hissed in pain as Lena managed to send a whiplike mental attack that left her shaking. The surge of hatred she’d felt from Lena was powerful, though dulled by the fear lurking behind it. Lena might loathe her aunt, but she feared her more. She knew what Magica was capable of, which still held her in check.

 

“You’re right,” he said. “I should have done more.”

 

For a second, her heart lifted. Then his next few words dashed her hopes to pieces.

 

“But so should have you. I’m calling Beakley in on this. You can’t be trusted anymore,” he said and shook his head. “I don’t want you to die, but I don’t think I can let you stay here, either. You’ve already proven that you’ll attack Lena given half the chance.”

 

“Lena, Lena, Lena,” Magica hissed, puffing up like an angry cat. “Why the hell are you defending her? Why does it matter what happens to her? She’s just a pawn, a weakling. I don’t understand why anyone cares about her. She hasn’t proven her worth, quite the opposite. You don’t love Lena. You love _me_. And if you really love me, you’ll let me hurt her like she’s hurt me. You’ll let me do this because you know I’ll never rest until I’ve punished her for her transgressions.”

 

Gladstone faltered. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to see the chink in his armor. She fought a cat-like smile. She smelled victory, or, at least, weakness to exploit. Gladstone might be able to drag her closer to the light, but it worked both ways. She, in turn, could corrupt him and turn him toward the darkness. With a man who made his own luck on her side, how could she lose?

 

Gladstone sighed and perched on the armrest on her chair. He looked weary beyond belief. He wasn’t a strong man, not physically, and certainly not emotionally. He’d never held to convictions. It was one of the reasons he drove Scrooge mad. When the world handed you everything on a silver platter, why bother to fight for anything? Why should he gainsay his luck?

 

“If I do this one thing,” she proposed, “I can punish everyone in one fell swoop. And then I promise on my soul that I won’t touch her again.”

 

Gladstone’s frown deepened. 

 

“You can’t tell me Lena’s still a child. She just got married.”

 

His jaw tightened, and she realized a moment too late she’d said the wrong thing. Somewhere, she’d misstepped or overestimated herself. Gladstone moved away from her, and she felt a wall spring between them mentally. It had a permanence about it that scared her, which meant she refused to acknowledge it. Weakness was not something she tolerated, either in others or in herself. 

 

“I was with you when you were grieving Poe,” he said. “I even supported your resurrecting him or reversing what had happened to him. But I can’t condone this. You’re proposing murdering not just Lena, but Webby and my nephew Dewey too. You’re starting an all-out war with Unk, too. I can’t. I have to walk away.”

 

But he was weak. She knew he was. How could he resist her? How _dare_ he resist her? She sprang to her feet too, determined to punish him for daring to defend his family. He’d made his choice, hadn’t he? He’d chosen her over the others, hadn’t he? _Hadn’t he_?

 

Rage swamped her, and she pushed mentally, not against Lena, who was temporarily forgotten. She pushed against Gladstone and the Bond. And the Bond shoved back, hard, bringing tears to her eyes and stars to her vision. She didn’t care. If Gladstone wasn’t going to support her, then she wanted nothing to do with him. She would fix this herself. Throughout her life, she’d learned she could only depend upon herself. And if this was what she needed to do, then she had best do it quickly.

 

Heart in her throat, betrayal filling her to the brim, she raised her magic against her Bonded. The Bond was not meant to tolerate such insults. Instead, the spell rebounded upon her, and she crashed against the armchair on which she’d been sitting. She was crying but could barely feel it or hear herself over the agony flooding her veins. Whatever she’d done to Gladstone she now shared in.

 

She coughed, and it felt like she was attempting to dislodge her lung. Blood dribbled down her chin, and she swiped at it. Unable to stand, she crashed to the floor. How dare he choose his family over her? How dare he disobey her?

 

Lena was right. There wasn’t enough light in her to love someone, not truly. Only to possess and control them. She was too cruel, too manipulative, too malevolent, too vindictive, to permit anyone else to have power in the situation. The only way she could tolerate Gladstone was if she had complete and utter mastery over him. 

 

The Bond was sacred and not meant to be meddled with. Typically robust, she forced it to cater to her whims. It bent and bent until it finally snapped and, with it, her sanity, hers and Gladstone’s.

 

Coughing up blood, she curled onto her side until the sensation passed. Once it had, she straightened up and glanced at her mate. Gladstone had passed out, and the mental links between them were no longer secure and resilient. They had snapped, leaving jagged magical pathways in their wake. Touching them via a mental brush left her feeling like she’d been electrocuted. 

 

So, the Bond could be broken or at least partially severed. Magica smiled. That left a whole new avenue of opportunities open to her. She glanced down at Gladstone with disgust. He was useful to her until he wasn’t. And now that he wasn’t, she needed to move on. 

 

Gathering her skirts, she left the room, her sanity, and Gladstone behind.

 

* * *

 

 

The moment of truth. Once she wished away her Bond, she could finally be free of Scrooge, once and for all. Her heart pounded, and she resisted the temptation to look back at him. Still, she could feel his presence in her mind. It had been a constant in her life, growing in strength and decreasing depending upon distance. Was she ready to sacrifice that? 

 

She was faltering. She glanced back at Scrooge, who raised his eyebrows at her. She raised her eyebrows again at him. 

 

“Well?” Scrooge said, gesturing to her. “Ladies first.”

 

“You honor me, Scroogie,” Goldie replied, demure. “I didn’t think you considered me a lady.”

 

“Ladies and scoundrels first,” he corrected.

 

“Then shouldn’t you go first?” she retorted.

 

The genie glanced between them and seemed to suppress a groan. It could hold its horses. She was on the cusp of changing her life. Surely a couple more minutes’ contemplation wouldn’t go amiss. She could be free of Scrooge and her compulsion to return to his side. It was the moment of truth. She could be free of _him_.

 

Her shoulders sank. “I can’t.”

 

She couldn’t wish away her affection for him. She couldn’t wish _him_ away. Despite everything, she had grown to love him. She might not appreciate being Bonded to him, albeit partially, but she couldn’t sever it. She didn’t want to. She stepped back and smiled at him.

 

“Sorry, Scrooge. It looks like you’re stuck with me a while yet,” she said and interlaced their fingers. “I wish I were the richest woman in the world!”

 

She knew her choice of words hadn’t been lost on him. He was assessing her anew, and she suppressed a shiver. They were magnets. They couldn’t be torn apart; they would always find each other. 

 

“And for my second wish…” she said as a tiara laden with diamonds landed atop her head, “I wish…”

 

Again, she faltered, looking around. She sighed. “All I ever wanted was to have all the gold and treasure in the world…”

 

But it wasn’t the same if she lost Scrooge in the bargain. For once in her life, she dropped her barriers to him. She needed him to understand what she couldn’t put into words.

 

“I’m holding onto my second wish,” she decided. “You’re up.”

 

For a minute, Scrooge was too flummoxed to speak. Then he straightened up, still holding her hand, and squeezing it too. She could feel his heartbeat in her palm and shuffled closer to him. Well, now he knew she loved him. He could do with that what he wished.

 

“I wish for Poe, Magica de Spell’s brother, and Lena’s father, to be restored to life in his normal form, not as a crow,” he said. “To be in the same health as he was before Magica’s turning him into a crow.”

 

“Really?” she burst out. “You have all of that power, and you’re going to wish for that? You’re such a bleeding heart.”

 

“And I wish for you,” he said and turned to her. Her heart skipped a beat. 

 

“I can’t do the second,” the genie announced and rolled his eyes. “You already have her.”

 

“Then why don’t we make it official?” he asked.

 

Goldie started to shake her head, began to tell him that she didn’t want to be bound to him, but stopped. She was sick of dancing around this. She was sick, too, of pretending that life was any fun without him. Life was only exciting with him in it.

 

To her consternation, she said, “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” he repeated. “Okay? Ye danced around it for over a century, and now ye’re fine with it?”

 

“Don’t put too fine a point on it, Scroogie. You might hurt yourself.”

 

“I wish for more adventures with my family by my side, and everyone healthy and whole. That includes Della,” he said.

 

“Done,” the genie announced. 

 

Goldie frowned. She didn’t know what to wish for if she already had everything she wanted. All of her life, she’d never been satisfied, and now that she was, she was at a complete loss. Her eyes met Scrooge’s. 

 

“Well?” he pressed, and she smiled.

 

“A lifetime of adventure sounds pretty nice,” she said. “Sign me up. But I think I’ll hold onto my last wish for now. Never know when it might come in handy.”

 

* * *

  
  
Louie was trying to put on a brave face, but he was inherently a coward. He ducked behind Huey and then glanced at Dewey again. Dewey’s tail had pared down to the bone in some places, and the muscle was exposed. His stomach lurched, and he threw up into a potted plant. How was Dewey not screaming in agony from that? Or did he not feel it yet?

 

“Problem, Llewellyn?” Doofus sneered. Louie was still hiding behind Huey.

 

“Yeah, stop calling me that,” Louie complained. “It’s gross.”

 

“Anyway,” Huey said, shooting his youngest brother a dirty look, “we’re here because you have someone of ours.”

 

Doofus snorted. “Ah, yes, Dewford.”

 

“Gross, don’t call me that either,” Dewey complained. Doofus snorted and then, rising, swung a baseball bat at Dewey’s exposed tail. Huey tackled him into the wall so hard that the walls shook. Louie was in shock, mostly because of how calm Dewey seemed to be and how he wasn’t bleeding. The acid should’ve made it bleed like crazy.

 

“How are you okay?” 

 

“Who said I was?” Dewey countered. He glanced around, agitated. “I was just minding my own business when he jumped me.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Louie muttered, although that hadn’t been the case at all. He shuddered, casting his gaze about for something to help. He wasn’t the Junior Woodchuck Huey was. Still, he could turn the tide. He needed to examine things, and figure out the angles, figure out what worked and what didn’t. Huey wanted to tackle Doofus head-on and confront him, more power to him. Louie was going to find another way.

 

The garage was full of tools and strange implements, probably for whatever passed for experimentation on Doofus’s account. His parents were nowhere to be seen, but as they wouldn’t have helped anyway, Louie discarded them out of hand. No, what he needed was something to turn the tide quickly and decisively without risking his skin — or hurting his brothers. He had to keep that in mind too.

 

Paint cans lined the top shelves along the walls, but that would draw attention to himself. There was also a large toolbox beside them, and Louie frowned. Dewey was half out of it, swaying back and forth and not paying the slightest bit of attention to either brother. Huey was having a pointless conversation with Doofus about how people weren’t property. As for Lena and Webby, who were probably en route, he couldn’t count on them. He didn’t know how far away they were or how long it would take them to arrive.

 

There were also bowling balls, gold no less, and Louie frowned. He needed something to put the bowling balls into motion at an angle so that it would knock into the paint cans and then knock over the toolbox. Maybe if he hit it with his tail after jumping in the air--he wouldn’t be able to land lightly, but by that time, if he’d positioned everything correctly, Doofus would be unconscious anyway. No chance of retaliation there. Louie shuddered. So creepy.

 

Dewey, who had had enough of Huey’s attempts to talk things out with Doofus or perhaps was simply out of his mind with pain, Louie didn’t know, crashed into Doofus and slammed him into the wall. It was almost like the moves were telegraphed--Louie sprang at the same time, just as Doofus was about to hit the wall, and pushed things up and at a pitch so that the bowling ball knocked into the paint cans, which knocked into the toolbox, and then the ball flew off, cracking Doofus on the head before resting on the floor. It’d been a glancing blow, which was not what Louie had wanted, but he couldn’t account for every variable, and Doofus had been shifting his stance at the time.

 

Doofus staggered, and Dewey rushed him again, with considerably less force--his brother’s strength was flagging. A paint can crashed onto Doofus’s head from the top shelf due to no influence from Dewey and clanged onto Doofus’s skull. Unlike the bowling ball, however, this one struck him in the middle of the head, and Doofus slammed into the floor. To Louie’s profound relief, he appeared to be unconscious now.

 

“Is he out?” Dewey asked.

  
“Is he dead?” Louie said, and Huey shot him a look. “What? I don’t like him.”

 

“You shouldn’t wish death on him,” Huey scolded. 

 

“He kidnapped our brother, burned away part of his tail, and he scares the crap out of me. At what point am I allowed to wish death on him, then?” Louie countered.

 

“You’re not supposed to do that to anyone,” Huey responded.

 

Louie rolled his eyes. 

 

“Besides, that was an accident,” Huey said, and then his eyes narrowed. “...no. It wasn’t. You started it, didn’t you?”

 

“It wasn’t like _talking_ was going to solve anything,” Louie scoffed. 

 

“It’s solved wars!” Huey countered.

 

“Yeah, after millions of people died in them!” Louie shot back. He glowered at him and then looked over at Dewey. “Man, you do not look so good.”

 

“I don’t feel so…” Dewey paused and then swallowed, dry heaving. “...good.”

 

“You need a doctor,” Huey said.

 

“In the middle of the Bonding ceremony?” Louie reminded him.

 

“He can’t fly like that!” Huey objected. “You know that the tail is the rudder!”

 

“What about Webby and Lena?” 

 

“They can find him later!” Huey hissed. “You can’t deny he needs medical attention.”

 

No, he couldn’t. As greedy and selfish as Louie was, he loved his brothers. And seeing Dewey like that made him want to wallop Doofus as long as he wasn’t in any danger of being hit back. He couldn’t help but wonder how pissed Uncle Donald would be to learn about this. And their mom, too, for that matter. Their mom must’ve been a hellion before the crash had paralyzed her from the waist down.

 

“But how are we going to move him if he can’t change out of that form?” Huey mused to himself.

 

“We’ll need to bring someone here,” Louie scoffed. “You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

 

“I am…” Huey protested. “We’ll bring Calente here, then.”

 

“I’ll do that,” Louie said. “You stay here.”

 

Huey shot him a glance. 

 

“What? What if Doofus wakes up? Do you want me to be the first person he sees?” Louie protested.

 

“Point taken,” Huey said, though his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying it. Okay, whatever, Louie wasn’t putting it out there for Huey to eat it up. Dewey would’ve, though. Louie glanced at his older brother. He felt guilty about this. Dewey wouldn’t have been attacked if it hadn’t been for him.

 

Not wanting to be alone with that thought, he sprang out of the garage and into the sky. Maybe if he tried, he could outpace his thoughts. That’d never worked before, and Webby usually called him out on it, but she wasn’t here. And neither, it seemed, was she on the horizon. Just how far away were the girls, anyway?

 

Louie glanced back only once. Doofus still appeared to be unconscious, and Huey had shifted back into humanoid form to bind and gag him. Louie might’ve been able to cope if that had been all he’d seen, but he could discern Dewey too, screaming in pain with his tail butchered. Heart in his throat, he rushed back toward McDragon Manor and help. 

* * *

 

 

Adrenaline and pheromones pumped between her and Webby as they raced toward Dewey. The pain in her tail was excruciating, and she needed something to take her mind off of it. Unfortunately, what Webby had in mind was not what Lena was comfortable discussing, nor did she feel comfortable explaining to her wife why a purple dragon was tailing her. Webby had discerned that much through their link, though she and Webby had yet to meet up again. 

 

She found she was aching, partially because of Dewey’s injury and partly because she wanted Webby so badly. This was like her yearnings for her in the past except times one hundred, and it, too, made it difficult to focus. She was lucky she hadn’t flown into that many trees. In her impatience to reach their third, Lena had blasted trees out of her way rather than crash into them. She might be responsible for decimating a forest or two.

 

((What did Magica do to you this time?)) Webby demanded.

 

((The same as usual. Tried to give me mental trauma, made me doubt you and Dewey, and tried to kill me,)) Lena said in an offhand voice. ((Don’t sweat it, pink. I’m fine.))

 

Her chest hurt from her earlier crash landing, but that paled in comparison with the pain from her tail. Or, rather, the transferred pain from Dewey’s tail. Sometimes, it was hard to keep these things straight. The pain had a way of clouding your mind, and she wasn’t entirely over what Magica had done to her, either. Regardless of what she was telling Webby.

 

For a moment, Webby didn’t respond. She was paralyzed with rage. Mentally, at least, though, Lena knew Webby was still flying to Dewey’s rescue. Lena didn’t want to broach the subject of what happened if they were too late. They didn’t know how much further they had to go before they reconned and then, from there, how much further to Dewey. Whatever disaster had befallen him might be over by the time they reached him. 

 

Lena’s heart thudded. While she admitted she much preferred her best friend to Dewey, she would be upset if something happened to him. Due to the power dynamics within the Bond, if something happened to him, the other two would either go insane or die. Or both, in that order. Lena shuddered.

 

That reminded her. Wondering if she was about to make the mistake of her life, Lena closed her eyes (she had excellent visibility and no obstacles as far as she could see) and for once reached across the two way link toward her aunt. Something felt “off,” more so than usual, and Lena also wouldn’t deny a yearning for revenge for the way she’d mistreated her. She also wouldn’t dismiss the fear pumping through her, even now.

 

What she encountered, however, surprised her. For all that Magica had been an unstable force in her life, she’d also been remarkably predictable. Her mental presence, when Lena had noticed it, was like a dark shadow. Now it had scattered to the wind. The fragments held her malevolence, but they lacked coherence. It was like whatever had been keeping her together had abruptly collapsed.

 

That...was unsettling.

 

There was another presence there, what she had taken to be Gladstone at first. It was sparking like a livewire, but its edges were frayed, and the equivalent of the wire was exposed. It also ached and felt inherently wrong, like magic perverted. Lena didn’t know what to make of that. What she knew of magic, she knew from her aunt, but this wasn’t Bond magic. Or her aunt’s. It was something else, something unholy and profane. And it sent chills down her spine.

 

She was afraid to ask what had befallen Gladstone that had allowed Magica to warp the Bond into this abomination. And anyway, she had her own problems. She jerked her attention away only to realize Webby had been monitoring her thoughts.

 

((Lena,)) Webby said quietly, in a tone that indicated she’d been calling for a while now to no avail. ((I almost lost you again.))

 

How could she explain this? ((Something’s wrong with Aunt Magica. Yes, I know there’s always been something wrong about her, but this is different. The Bond magic _broke_ or something. It’s not natural anymore. I don’t know how you feel about Gladstone, but Dewey might be upset because it looks like whatever this was, it hit Gladstone too.))

 

Webby was silent again, but only briefly. ((She can do that?))

 

((There are limits to what magic can do. But this doesn’t appear to be one of them.))

 

((We’ll have to tell Uncle Scrooge about it later.))

 

Lena frowned. After what Magica had done, she doubted that the woman would consent to be imprisoned again — or even located. She couldn’t shake the feeling that by ignoring this, they were only postponing the inevitable, a horrible problem later on. But Dewey needed them, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

 

((The Bond’s supposed to be one of the most sacred rituals in our world,)) Webby continued softly. ((How many more rules and laws is she going to break?))

 

((Is that really your biggest concern?)) Lena asked; her lips twisted wryly.

 

((No,)) Webby admitted. ((My biggest concern is you. And...I think Huey and Louie got to Dewey before we did.))

 

Lena sighed and reached out for Dewey to discover Webby was telling the truth. That was a relief. ((So we don’t have to keep flying like crazy to reach him?))

 

((We still need to reach him. But it’s not as urgent. I’m worried, though. He hasn’t responded to me in a while now.))

 

((That kind of happens when you’re being tortured, Webs,)) she said and then winced at her glib tone. Webby hissed.

 

((Again, we’re having a serious talk about this later. You, me, Dewey, and Granny.))

 

((You’re really bringing your grandmother into this?))

 

((Yes. If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to her.))

 

Lena groaned. Yes, they were about to have a lovely conversation, the four of them. She couldn’t wait. It was up there with a tooth extraction.

 


	10. Dropped chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I wrote this without having reread the previous chapter (and that's why this is not an actual chapter, or finished, just what would have been chapter nine). I liked the way Gladstone made Magica redeem herself...
> 
> And then she screwed it all up when I rewrote it. Ffs, woman.

Magica snarled. Twice thwarted so far, she was losing what little patience she had remaining. Gladstone had fallen asleep beside her and she wrenched at the strings connecting her to Violet. Sublimating the girl’s will again, she saw Lena through her eyes and the sight infuriated her. Lena was flying, heading toward her precious Webster or possibly Dewford, Magica neither knew nor cared. Violet was behind her and the two traveled through a thunderstorm. Magica smiled back, sitting hundreds of miles away. The geas on Violet would not pass simply because Violet willed it. It wasn’t that simple.  
  
“Lena, darling,” Magica cajoled through Violet and Lena froze, looking over her shoulder. Magica grinned.  
  
“Aunt Magica?” Lena said, aghast. “It can’t be. Violet pushed you back. And the amulet is broken---you’re too far away to hurt me.”  
  
“Do you really believe that, child?” she crooned. She flung herself at Lena’s woeful magical defenses and, knowing that there was nothing preventing her from doing serious harm to her niece now, tore into Lena’s mind. The only thing that could heal the damage would be the Bond and Magica was going to make sure Lena was in no shape to pursue anything, much less consummate the Bond fully to save herself.  
  
As she ripped through Lena’s mind, she shoved the girl down, causing her to plummet to the ground. Gladstone stirred and she jerked, disrupted from her attack by his staring at her. He no longer looked even vaguely asleep. His eyes narrowed and her heart hammered between her ribs.  
  
“It’s late. Go back to sleep,” she coaxed.  
  
“I know what you’re doing,” Gladstone snapped. “You woke me up as soon as you started.”  
  
Gladstone threw the sheets off, heedless of his nudity. The sight of it was enough to stir her arousal and perhaps normally, it would have stirred him too. Now, however, he was incensed. She could feel it in their link. Behind the anger, however, was disgust. She trembled.  
  
“I warned you,” he said in a low voice. “I warned you what would happen if you attacked Lena again, Magica.”  
  
Magica was still aware of Lena, albeit in a cursory way rather than the focus she’d had before. Lena continued falling, her mind in shambles but piecing itself back together without Magica’s interference. Lena might survive the drop, level out, and land without further injury. All hope wasn’t lost. At least, all hope for her. But Magica didn’t know if she could let the matter rest.  
  
She feared she might have gone past the point of no return with Gladstone. Her need for vengeance was too strong and her capacity for love too weak. Fear choked her; he was going to repudiate her. In the very least, he was going to rebuke her and tell her that the full consummation ceremony was off. As Gladstone would slip from her grasp, so too would Lena’s comeuppance.  
  
She had a choice to make. Either she let this moment pass and accept that there would never be another one like it, possibly holding onto Gladstone in the process; or she seized the moment and left Lena mentally damaged, prone to seizures and all matter of mental problems, and Gladstone abandoned her. The choice was hers but it would have to be soon. She could feel the seconds slipping away.  
  
“If you do what you’re thinking of doing, Magica, that’s it. It’s over. I don’t care what the consequences are. You swore an oath, Magica de Spell.”  
  
Gladstone or Lena? Happiness versus vengeance? A rock and a hard place? She couldn’t do anything by half measures, not anymore. Sweat trickled down her scalp and she bit her lower lip. She couldn’t have everything, so which was better? Vengeance for Poe or happiness for herself, knowing that she’d remain unfulfilled in her quest against Lena?  
  
With a sigh, she let go, watching in her mind as Lena spiraled toward the ground. She released her claws from Lena’s mind and then from Violet’s mind, freeing her from her onus. To her shame and shock, sobs threatened to erupt. Gladstone sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. She was shaking badly. Gladstone was poisoning her, corrupting her darkness into light.  
  
“Okay,” she choked out. “Okay.”  
  
Gladstone stroked her hair. “You did the right thing.”  
  
That must be why she felt so rotten. Well, there was still a possibility that whatever havoc she’d wreaked prior to Gladstone’s interruption would have an adverse effect on Lena. It was a pathetic thing to pin her hopes on, though.  
  


* * *

  
  
Lena crashed into the ground so hard that she saw stars. The breath was knocked out of her and her head was killing her. Magica might have withdrawn, but she could still feel her claws shredding at her mind. The pain was unbearable. Lena almost wished she’d died because it was that horrific. Her vision was wonky, her chest ached fiercely, and the pain in her head was like someone had crushed her beneath an eighteen-wheeler truck.  
  
“Lena?” Violet queried. Lena didn’t know how she’d heard her over the pounding in her ears.  
  
“Oh god, just let me die…”  
  
“Lena!”  
  
Violet’s sharp voice was grating her already sensitive head and Lena smacked the smaller dragon with her tail. Why didn’t anyone want to grant her the sweet release of death? She was sobbing, unable to help herself. Magica hadn’t given her a seizure, not this time, but somehow, what she’d done was worse. Lena had gone completely limp after hitting Violet. She doubted she had the strength to push back up to her feet.  
  
Violet had changed back into her humanoid form and was staring at Lena in concern.  
  
“You have to get up,” Violet extolled.  
  
Lena huffed, producing a pitiful amount of wind. Tears slipped down her cheeks, which was odd because she didn’t think dragons could cry. The world was too bright, too intense. Even though they were alone in a clearing, everything was cacophonous. Seriously, why hadn’t her aunt killed her and been done with it?  
  
((Lena?))  
  
Webby. Her sweet, beautiful Webby. Her voice in Lena’s mind ought to have been a balm. It wasn’t. It was jarring and discomfiting, like someone adding salt to inflamed flesh. Lena’s next breath was another sob. All of her thoughts, the ones she was capable of thinking, revolved around perishing. If she could have dashed her brains out in that instant, regardless of the consequences, she would have.  
  
((Lena, no…)) Webby breathed, catching her thoughts. ((No, you can’t do that.))  
  
((One up on you, pink,)) Lena managed weakly. ((I can’t move.))  
  
((I’m going to rescue you, I promise,)) Webby whispered. ((I love you very much.))


	11. Fini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end...or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do intend to write more for this particular universe, but not right now. I need to finish Sunday Bloody Sunday (and work on that, again) and I also have a new fanfic that I'm gonna upload in a bit. :)

They reached Dewey only to discover he wasn’t where he ought to be. Instead, he was at McDragon Manor and under surveillance after being roughed up. Somehow, Calente had reversed or interfered with the Bond ceremony to permit Dewey to return to his humanoid form, which meant that they would have to complete it as they had before. Lena wasn’t sure how that would work; she rubbed her arms, which had goosebumped. 

At present, Dewey was unconscious but stable, though he wouldn’t be able to fly for a while. The damage to his tail would heal, but it would take time. They might not even be able to consummate the Bond fully for a month or so. They couldn’t risk agitating the injury. Lena and Webby would be able to help him heal through their own consummation, but the damage was still extensive. Dewey would be unconscious for at least a week. 

After Webby was done reprimanding Dewey, who couldn’t hear a word of what she’d said, she had gone off to find her grandmother, presumably to have that talk Lena was hoping wouldn’t happen. As she waited outside the infirmary, she noted a lanky man with dark black hair, cut short, and a pressed black suit. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in here or what he wanted. Apprehensive, she summoned magic but didn’t unleash it, just in case she needed to defend herself or protect the others.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me,” he said quietly. His voice was a soft baritone that Lena knew, but she wasn’t sure how. She frowned, assuming a defensive stance.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Lena, my dear, I’m Poe de Spell,” he said. “Your father.”

Lena froze. Then the magic she’d summoned glowed on her hands, and she went from a defensive stance to an offensive one. She didn’t know who this man was, but he wasn’t her father. After all, Magica had ensured that her father had remained as a crow until he perished. Her father was dead, for God’s sake. She’d almost had a grand mal seizure because of that. This man was an imposter.

Yes, she’d seen a mirage of her father earlier, but that was after Magica had induced massive trauma on her brain. She had chalked it up to imagination.

She probably should’ve told the medic about that mental attack, but she didn’t want someone fussing over her. Besides, the last thing she needed was to give Webby another reason to flip out. 

“No,” she said flatly. “You’re not. You’re a liar.”

He advanced, and the purple glow about her body intensified. He stopped, frowning back.

“How can I prove I am who I say I am?” 

Magica would know if he was, but the likelihood of her locating her aunt, bringing her here, expecting her to behave, and then telling the truth induced laughter. That was never going to happen. Even if he were her father, by some miracle, Magica would never give her that much. And besides, this might be a ploy on Magica’s part to get Lena to lower her guards so that she’d attack her later. Lena was not buying it.

“Lena, I swear on my life that I’m your father.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know you from a hole in the wall. Your life doesn’t mean anything to me. How do I know you’re not a trick by Magica to hurt me? I don’t. Get out.”

The man sighed. “I hate that you’re so mistrustful.”

“You would be too if your aunt spent almost your entire life turning you into a punching bag,” she spat. “Mrs. Beakley!”

She needn’t have yelled. Webby and her grandmother were turning the corner, and when they saw the man standing opposite Lena, they halted. Webby rushed over to her wife’s side and held her hand. Lena forgot how to tell her via telepathy not to do that. Now the man would have two targets instead of one. He’d be able to do twice the damage, not to mention poor Dewey in the infirmary. 

“He claims he’s my father,” Lena spat. “I think he’s full of it.”

“But, Lena, your father is…” Webby trailed off, as if wary of giving offense. Lena appreciated the gesture, even if it was pointless. She wasn’t offended. Nonetheless, she squeezed Webby’s hand back.

“Who are you, and how did you get here?” Mrs. Beakley demanded. “The manor has very strict magical and mundane alarms to prevent unauthorized access.”

“I don’t know how I got here,” the man replied. “I’ve been following Lena.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound super creepy at all,” Lena growled.

“What can I do to prove I am who I say I am?” he protested.

“Aside from having Magica confirm it, which she wouldn’t,” Mrs. Beakley replied, “you would have to wait for Mr. McDragon to return.”

“I can do that,” the man said earnestly, looking desperate to please. “Tell me where to go--”

“Straight back to wherever you came from, you lying son of a bitch,” Lena muttered.

“Lena…” the man said, sounding exasperated now. “I’m your father. I swear to you, I am.”

“If you’re her father, then why did you show up now? Out of nowhere?” Webby countered. She’d instinctively taken Lena’s side, and Lena relaxed. She sent Webby an affectionate mental nudge. “Where were you before? And what do you mean, you’ve been ‘following Lena’? How could you be doing anything? As a ghost?” 

“I don’t know what I was,” he answered. “I existed on the astral plane without having any body. If that makes sense.”

“Don’t worry,” Lena said. “It doesn’t.”

“In the meantime, since we can’t trust you and certainly can’t take your word for the truth, I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to a secure area,” Mrs. Beakley said. 

The man raised his eyebrows. “You’re imprisoning me?”

“Did you really think we’d give you the run of the manor?” Lena asked, disgusted. “We have no way of verifying that you are who you say you are, and after all the crap Magica’s put me through, why should I trust any of my relatives? A family’s not supposed to hurt each other or hold the other hostage. Or lie to them. If you are my father and you’ve been a humanoid for all of this time, hiding away from us, then you’re full of shit. If not, then I still don’t know who you are.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said pleadingly.

“But you did. If you’re who you say you are, which I’m not convinced you are. Try again some other day. Or, better yet, don’t.”

Lena’s lower lip curled in disdain, and she allowed Mrs. Beakley to lead the man away. Violet was already locked up in a secure cell until they could be sure that Magica had taken her claws out from her. Webby had taken an instant shine to the purple dragon, now in humanoid form, and Lena found it annoying. Then again, she was a little worried Webby might find a way to forsake her, even now. Magica’s attack had left her shaken, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“Hey,” Webby said gently. They were alone together in the hallway outside of the infirmary. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Lena on the lips. Lena leaned down so that she could kiss her back and scooped her up for a tight embrace. Realizing that the height difference was still a problem, she lowered her to the floor, and they continued kissing, Lena shaking and not noticing it. 

((We still need to talk about what Magica did to you,)) Webby reprimanded. Yeah, that did it. Lena broke off the kiss and stared at her.

“No,” Lena said. “We don’t. We don’t need to discuss it, and it’s not an issue right now.”

She’d been happy for a brief second, kissing Webby. Her chest was warm, and her heart pounded. And the way Webby looked at her, head cocked with that cute hair bob, made her want to kiss her again. She hadn’t done it right. Webby deserved a proper kiss. 

“I promised that I’d get her back if she hurt you again, and I meant it,” Webby said softly. She took Lena’s hand in her own. “We need to figure out where Gladstone is holing up and drag her out. No more trials. Uncle Scrooge can--”

“Scrooge isn’t here,” Lena interrupted, rolling her eyes. “And I appreciate it, Webs, I do, but...she’s not going to let herself be found. Not now. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Webby asked, frowning. “Does this have anything to do with what happened earlier?”

“What happened earlier?” Lena echoed and then grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Webby, she broke the Bond somehow. I don’t know how, but she warped it. It was like touching a frayed, live wire. She attacked Gladstone, and now she’s not going to consent to be found. Whatever she did, she’ll be hiding out and planning revenge.”

“She hurt Uncle Gladstone?” Louie said, and the girls looked up.

“I can’t explain it,” Lena said, frowning. “I know she did, magically speaking, but I don’t know how. Or to what end.”

Louie sat down beside them. He was shaking too, thinking of Doofus. Webby put an arm about his shoulders. 

“What are we going to do about Doofus?” Webby asked gently.

“Mrs. B didn’t like my suggestion of tying him to a log and then dropping him off a waterfall into the rapids,” Louie scoffed. He glanced down at the floor and then up at them again. “He’s going to come back. Whatever business he has with me, he’s not done. His timing was too good.”

“So was Black Heron’s,” Webby commented, frowning. “It makes me wonder if they were in league together. Black Heron, Doofus, and Magica.”

“If they were, we’re not going to get an answer out of Black Heron,” Lena reminded her. “You snapped her neck.”

“You know, I forget how badass you are, and then every once in a while, you remind me,” Louie said and then shuddered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Webby said, rolling her eyes. She nudged him affectionately. “So, what do we do now?”

“Wait for Uncle Scrooge to get back, I guess,” Louie said with a shrug. “I wonder what he and Goldie wished for.”

“I can take a guess,” a familiar voice said, and Lena turned her head. Della Dragon, walking on her own two feet, strolled up to them. Louie’s face lit up, but it was replaced by caution a second later. He stood and stared at her.

“Mom? You’re not an illusion caused by Magica, are you? Some sort of trick? How are you walking?” 

“Magic,” Della confirmed with a smile. “And I bet that the man you just locked up in the dungeons, Lena, is your father brought back from the brink.”

“Ugh, of course, Uncle Scrooge would waste his wishes,” Louie muttered and then hastily amended his statement. “Not that I’m not glad you’re okay, Mom, but really? Bringing back Poe?”

“It was his fault that Poe was trapped in that form,” Della said with a sigh. “If Magica hadn’t been attempting revenge against Uncle Scrooge, she wouldn’t have enlisted Poe, and he wouldn’t have been stuck as a crow until he died.”

Lena frowned. “So that really  _is_ my father?”

“Yes, it is,” Della confirmed with a smile. 

“Then I think I have an apology to make,” Lena said. She’d forgotten that Magica, Gladstone, Poe, and Della were all around the same age. If anyone else could have identified Poe, it would’ve been the Dragon twins. Impulsively, she hugged Della, who hugged her back.

Then, knowing she wouldn’t have the courage without her, she beckoned for Webby to follow. Webby did, as she always did because Webby loved her. And she wouldn’t leave her maybe if Lena told herself that enough times, she’d believe it.

* * *

 

“So, were ye serious? About makin’ it official?” Scrooge asked as they flew back to Dragonburg.

“Would I have said it if I weren’t?” Goldie scoffed and then rolled her eyes. “Well, possibly as a way to manipulate you, but no, not this time. I’m serious.”

Scrooge studied her, and she beamed back at him.

“What? You didn’t think I had it in me?” Goldie scoffed. “You wound me, Scroogie.”

Scrooge glanced around; Launchpad was otherwise engaged with the controls and utterly oblivious to what was going on around him. 

“Would ye like to have something else in ye?” he whispered, and she grinned impishly.

“Only if you don’t think he’ll notice,” she said and then scoffed. “Oh, he’s watching Darkwing Dragon. He’s oblivious.”

“He should be piloting…” Scrooge grumbled. “But…”

He slapped her butt, and she responded by groping him. The last wish could remain unused for the time being. Goldie grabbed him and tugged him to a faraway corner of the Sunchaser, as far as they could get from Launchpad. She threw him down onto an inflatable mattress and then straddled him.

“But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Goldie confirmed and kissed him in a long, lingering way that promised more of the same and better. His hand rested on her rear this time and squeezed, and she nipped his neck.

Well, she’d always wanted to be a member of the Mile High club. Besides which, this was training for their actual Flight, whenever that would be. Goldie returned to kiss him on the mouth as his hands slipped along her body. There’d never been anyone but him for her and vice versa. It was time to stop pretending otherwise.

* * *

 

Magica was never completing the Bond. In truth, after how she’d perverted it, it was impossible to fix. But that was all right. She had other fish to fry, more lucrative ones. 

She’d felt Poe’s return to the corporeal world and in her previous state, might have rushed over to McDragon Manor to find out what was going on and how to turn the situation to her advantage. Now she didn’t know what to feel. Poe had gone over to Lena, which meant he’d betrayed her too. Again. 

They deserved to be destroyed, every single one of them. And Magica thought she knew just how to do it.

She threw her head back and laughed. This was going to be fun. She nodded at Gladstone, now her slave through the Bond. Gladstone smiled back, his eyes empty and expression vacant. She wasn’t sure there was a way to fix that either. But she’d worry about it later.

For now, revenge waited. 


End file.
